And what do you know, he was doing all that right in front of his hips.
On that note, Mae pivoted toward the table, bringing the chair with her—just so she had an excuse to turn away and make sure her clothes were where they needed to be.
Thank God. Shirt and fleece were looking pretty good on the rearrange. Not great, but okay enough. And at least her bra, which was still up and over its charges, so to speak, wasn’t showing its disorder. Then again, she didn’t wear any padding or underwires.
“Would you like something to eat?” Mae asked as she couldn’t meet Tallah in the eye.
The truth was, she had no clue how to handle this situation.
Virgins were not known for their game—and she did her best not to dwell on how business-as-usual it all seemed for Sahvage.
Clearly, he’d had experience . . . in a lot of things.
“I am hungry, thank you,” Tallah said as she came forward. “But I feel like cooking.”
“Listen, I need to run out for second.” Sahvage put the teacup down on its saucer, and went over to the flak jacket he’d tossed over the arm of the sofa. “I’ll be right back. Just a quick errand.”
As Mae looked across at him, he shook his head like he was reading her mind and seeing the Again? that was all over it. “It’s not going to take long. I promise.”
“Oh, okay.”
He nodded, and then he was gone, dematerializing right in front of them. Which meant he was using that second-floor window again.
In his absence, Tallah smiled and patted her hair. “A male like that makes you feel young, doesn’t he?”
Where was he going? Mae thought.
She hid her flush and her worry by getting up from the table. “How can I help you with food?”
“Sit, sit, sit.” Tallah waved the offer away as she went to the stove. “I brought some meat up from the refrigerator downstairs. Let me make you and him a meal. It’s the least I can do for you.”
“Speaking of which, do you mind if we stay here today?”
Tallah’s eyes twinkled in a way Mae hadn’t seen for . . . years. “I would just love the company. How delightful!”
Okay, so here’s a moral quandary.
Nah, not really.
As Sahvage re-formed outside of a trailer with bullet holes in its cheap aluminum siding, he looked around at the crap-ass yard: Two pickup trucks off to the side, rusted parts of cars strewn around like the biopsies from junkers, a BBQ grill without a lid or a propane tank listing by a busted picnic table. The acreage was crowded with trees and vines, and as he thought of the cottage, he wished he were sticking around in Mae’s life. He liked the idea of getting a mower and clippers, tidying the place up, taking care of—
Jesus. One kiss and she’d turned him into a suburban househusband. Next up, beer cozies, football in the fall, and a dad bod.
Never gonna happen, he thought as he palmed one of his guns.
But what he could do for her? Was make sure she was safer.
There were three loose wooden steps that led up to a door that was probably the only solid thing on the property. Raising his fist to knock—
The scream of pain from inside was muffled. But it was clearly a woman’s, high-pitched and desperate.
And then, much, much louder: “You fucking whore! Where’s my fucking money—”
“I gave it to you! It’s right there—”
The slap was so loud, it rang in Sahvage’s ears. Annnnnnnnd he’d had enough of this.
Grabbing onto the knob, he ripped the door from its frame and led with the muzzle of his forty.
Over on a worn-out plaid couch, a hollow-eyed woman in faded blue jeans and a blood speckled t-shirt was trapped under the lanky body of a greasy meth-head Sahvage had known for all of two and a half weeks. Crumpled bills littered the threadbare cushions around them, and a three-foot-tall bong that was charred like a tailpipe had been kicked over to drool on the filthy, matted carpet.
As they both looked over at him in surprise, Sahvage leveled his gun at the man. “Let her go.”
To his absolute insanity, the misogynistic fucker recovered quickly. “Fuck off! What the fuck are you doing—”
“Dave,” Sahvage said in a reasonable tone, “let her go or I’m going to shoot you in the head.”
“This is not your fucking business.” Dave twisted the woman’s hand back until she whimpered. “And we did not have an appointment.”
“Like this is a dentist office?” Sahvage narrowed his eyes. “On three. You let her go, or I shoot you in the head. One.”
Dave wrenched around with a glare—while using his grip on the front of the woman’s throat to keep his balance. “You’re making a fucking mistake here—”
“Two.”
“You’re not going to shoot me.”