The Fall(12)

It also meant our short walk to his car was more conspicuous than I would have liked. The bags and drawn guns broadcasting to whoever might be watching that I wasn’t leaving to go on a vacation. Still, the late hour would afford us some privacy. Not enough it seemed.

My escort—I still had no idea of his name—stopped in front of me. His head snapping to the left like a German Shepard catching a scent.

“What’s wrong?” Even looking in the same direction, I saw nothing unusual. Unless the haphazard placement of trashcans that lined the sidewalks ready for the morning’s collection bothered you.

He didn’t answer, ignoring my question as he pointed to the matte-black Camaro parked a few feet away—his I assumed. Whatever had spooked him didn’t seem to give him much more concern, his feet moving purposely to the car as I followed behind.

“Get in.” His hand squeezed the keyless entry. The locks clicking open as he moved to the driver’s side, his eyes staying on me until I opened the door and slid inside.

My body lowered onto the cloth seat, the duffle I was carrying with extra firepower placed at my feet while he tossed my overnight bag into the backseat. No words were exchanged, the process taking less than a few minutes before he started the car and pulled out onto the road. I had barely gotten my seat belt fastened, pulling the cloth strip across my chest.

He hadn’t bothered with his.

I checked my weapon and flicked on the safety, resting my gun on the bag between my legs. It was close enough to get to in a hurry without being overtly visible. Not that he seemed to have the same concerns about not drawing attention to us.

“You should put on your seatbelt,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

He didn’t answer, his eyes remaining on the road as he put distance between us and my house.

“Your gun?” My head tilted to the forty-five that was resting across his thigh, closest to the driver’s side door. “Is that registered?”

Again, no answer.

Not even an additional blink giving me any indication he’d heard a word I’d said.

“I’m just saying that, if you are trying to not arouse suspicion, driving around without a seatbelt isn’t smart. Traffic cops are working this beat all the time. You get stopped for a minor infringement, and they search your car, I’m sure they are going to find more than just one loaded gun.”

Not even a flinch as I took a breath and continued.

“And assuming they are registered—which I’m guessing that they’re not—you would also need to be licensed for concealed carry. Which I’m also assuming you aren’t. So at the very least you should put on your seatbelt and try and keep close to fifty-five.”

“No one in this town does fifty-five.” He gave me a quick sideways glance before his eyes returned to the road, the needle on the speedometer edging closer to eighty. “And I don’t need handy hints from a cop.” The distaste on the last word not missed.

“You know, you could drop me off somewhere. I could leave by myself and we can each go our separate ways.” I looked through the windshield before turning over my shoulder to look at the rear window. “It doesn’t look like anyone is following us. No one saw me leave, and as you pointed out, I’m a cop so I know how to cover my tracks.”

I’m not sure why I was trying to bargain with him. This wasn’t a date that hadn’t worked out, and he was being polite by seeing it through. He’d either been, or would be paid by my father to take me somewhere. Jimmy Amaro had most people either on his payroll, or scared of him. And if I had to guess, I’d say he wasn’t going to give up the payout.

Silence.

“How much is he paying you?”

I knew I was pushing it. That the last thing the man beside me wanted was a conversation, but I really didn’t care. I needed to find out as much as I could about my current situation. And I was on a steep learning curve. “I’m curious as to how much I’m worth.”

Nothing. Didn’t even move a muscle.

He just continued to drive; the lights passing us in a whirl. Even at this time of night there were cars on the road, and while their presence should have made me feel less isolated, instead it made me more uncomfortable.

Was someone watching us? Waiting until we pulled up at a stop sign before they tried to ambush us? Was I unjustifiably suspicious and was this all just a major ploy by my father to terrorize me into submission? Was this just the calm before whatever unknown storm came and engulfed me in it? The feelings weren’t new and something every officer had to face when they went out on patrol. Add in my last name, and I battled an almost constant case of paranoia. What I didn’t usually have to deal with was not knowing the intentions of the person beside me and how they aligned with the dangers outside of the car. So on top of all those variables, I didn’t even have a partner to back me up.

My nerves buzzed with every part of me hypersensitive, the lack of information bothering me as I looked to his impassive face. A complete locked vault of emotion.

“Nothing? You’re going to sit there and tell me nothing?” I glared at him in frustration, reducing me to behaving like a teenager being grounded. I wasn’t sure which I hated more—the silence, or the feeling of insecurity that was creeping up inside of me.

He didn’t respond, the hum of the engine the only sound. Not a music lover I assumed, the stereo as mute as he was. “At least tell me your name.” So I can tell you to f*ck off properly, I finished in my head.