Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(32)

She sucks in a breath and lets it out. “Right. Don’t stand out. I’ll learn.”

“You need to learn quickly.”

“I know, and I’m sure it gets easier.”

“You can’t let it get easier. If it does, you’ll make mistakes, so make sure it doesn’t. And after six years, I know from experience that making sure it doesn’t takes a concerted effort. You will be tempted to feel like the storm has passed.”

“You keep mentioning six years.” Her hands close down on my upper arms, her voice going raspy. “What happened six years ago?”

I arch a brow, aware of the salesman’s approach, while Gia seems oblivious. “You didn’t know it was that long?”

“That long since what?”

“Since that bastard killed my parents. And Gia—”

“Six years,” she repeats. “Chad—”

“Sorry about the delay.” The sound of the salesman’s voice is my cue to wrap my arm around Gia’s shoulder and turn us to greet him as he adds, “Can I help you folks?”

“I’ll take that white truck in the corner.”

The man’s brow furrows. “You mean you want to test drive it?”

“No,” I correct. “We’ll take it. How much?”

“Five thousand.”

“I’ll make it six if you can get us out of here in fifteen minutes.” His eyes go wide, and I quickly explain away any suspicions I’ve created. “We were headed to Austin to get my sister away from her dickhead husband who beats her, but my BMW broke down. The part for the repair won’t be in for a week, and I’d counted on beating that man’s ass by sundown.”

He arches a brow. “You carry around that much cash?”

“Asshole is a computer programmer with some hacking skills, and my sister is scared shitless of the bastard. I’m making her throw away her credit cards and stay off his radar while I deal with him. This will deplete that money, but I’ll replace it when we get to her.”

Gia surprises me by adding, “He’s horrible.” She presses her fingers to her eyes. “She and I are like sisters. I’m sorry. I’m scared for her.”

“Oh, honey,” the man says, clearly convinced and sympathetic, and I don’t blame him; she’s practically sold me on the story. “Ain’t nothing I hate more than a woman-beater. I’ll get you out of here in fifteen, and you keep that extra thousand.” He opens the door and waves us inside.

My hand goes to Gia’s waist, guiding her into the building, and while I don’t like people at my back, the old man included, I like them at Gia’s even less. I just hope like hell that acting performance she gave doesn’t mean I’m one step away from a knife in my back that she’s holding. Following her down a narrow hallway, we enter a bullpen-style office setup with two steel desks, one on each side of the door, facing the plate-glass windowed front wall that gives me a full view of the lot.

In unison, Gia and I step inside the door to the right and let the salesman pass by. He steps behind the desk on the left and opens a drawer while Gia surprises me by asking, “Is there a ladies’ room?”

“That door we just passed in the hallway,” the man offers.

I give her a warning look, and my eyes narrow at how bloodshot her eyes are. “What are you doing?” I ask softly, wondering how the woman who didn’t even know why I picked a truck became this one.

She steps to me and flattens her hands on my chest, kissing my cheek. “Breaking down and needing this truck has me flustered. I just a need a minute.”

I grab her head and lean in near her ear. “Don’t try to play me. You won’t like the results. I’ll be watching the door.”

“Good,” she replies. “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

I want to know what that means, but she pulls back, and considering we have an audience, I have to let her. But I don’t miss how her lashes are lowered to become an effective shield that leaves me incapable of reading her intentions. I allow her to escape.

“Okay,” says the salesman, still standing behind his desk. “I have the paperwork and the keys.” He offers me his hand. “I’m Jeff, by the way.”

The bathroom door shuts, and I step forward and shake his hand. “Thanks for the help, Jeff,” I say, leaving out my name, a habit I’ve perfected over the years.

“My pleasure.” He releases my hand and motions for me to sit. I comply simply because it gives me a good view of the bathroom.

“I’ll need identification and the cash.”

Removing my wallet, I adjust my chair to profile the front window and the door Gia should exit from any second, laying the ID that reads “Kevin Moore” on the desk for Jeff to review. “The money after the contracts,” I state.

“Not a problem.” He glances at the ID. “Mr. Moore.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve signed the contracts and we’re about to exchange cash for keys, and Gia has yet to appear. A blue Chevy four-door sedan pulls into the lot and Jeff sighs. “That would be my wife with my lunch.” He pushes to his feet. “Let me go get rid of her.”

I follow him to his feet. “That’s not necessary. We’ll be leaving anyway. Let’s count the cash.”