Keeping Me (Spy Chronicles Book 2)(14)

My dad planned for me to come with Bass. I wonder what his other plans were and why he didn't discuss them with me. I am glad it worked out the way it did. I'd rather be with Bass than a stranger.

Still, I can't help but miss the guys. I wonder how Gage is doing and if Sander and the rest of them are any closer to finding Nolan.

“Will life ever be normal?” I ask him, breaking the moment of silence.

“Serenity, this is our normal. Buckle up and get used to it,” he says.

Get used to what?

Hiding from the cops?

Torching cars?

Running for my life?

That last one pretty much has become my normal. I'm just ready for my normal to be more... boring.

I can do boring. Going to class. Though, I doubt class at Spy School is boring. Learning to drive. Okay, I guess that one is exciting. Doing normal, non-spy things with my friends.

But no bowling. Definitely no bowling.

I think Bass is wrong. Someday, hopefully sooner than later, my life will get better. There will be no more running away or fighting off bad guys. I have to hope for that, because where am I without hope?





Saturday, August 26





Soon.





When we arrived at our destination late last night/early this morning, I was asleep and too tired to even ask where we were. All I know is that we are in some sort of apartment building in a suburb. I think we're in Missouri.

I wake up on a bed in a pretty large room. There is a bathroom attached, which I quickly find. There is also a walk in closet, which already has clothes in it. Clothes that are my size.

“Sweet,” I say.

“Talking to yourself?” Bass asks.

I turn around and look at him, putting my hand over my heart. “You shouldn't sneak up on me.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” he asks, stepping closer. Like he’s daring me.

“Pretty much nothing. Because you and I both know that I can’t do anything. At least not now,” I say, standing tall with my hands on my hips. “But after you teach me how to fight I might just give you a run for your money, then you won't look so smug.”

And then the strangest thing happens.

Bass.

Smiles.

I mean, like a full on, teeth and dimples showing, smile. I didn't even know he had dimples.

“If you're done being girly over your closet, breakfast is ready,” Bass says, turning to walk out of the room.

“I am a girl you know,” I yell after him. “I have every right to be excited about a huge closet full of pretty dresses!”

I hear him mumble something back, but I can't quite make it out. I have a feeling that whatever he said was probably pretty sarcastic.

My stomach growls, reminding me that he said something about food. I quickly leave the room and find the kitchen. It's a small apartment, but I like it. I notice there are two other bedrooms. One, I guess, is Sebastian's. The other looks like an office on steroids. There is a computer inside with three different large monitors. The desk is huge and takes up more than half the room.

The living area is all open—a living room with one love seat, a recliner, and a large, flat screen TV above the fireplace. There is a dining room with a medium sized table and matching dark wood chairs around it. Also, there’s a decent sized kitchen with matching, white appliances and light grey counters.

In the dining room, Bass is sitting at the table with an unopened box of pizza in front of him.

“Pizza for breakfast?” I ask.

How is there even a pizza place open this early?

He opens the box and hands me a slice on a paper plate.

“It's called breakfast pizza. And you haven't lived until you've had it,” he tells me.

I look at the slice. It has bacon, egg, and cheese. The sauce is different, too. It looks kind of like some kind of cheese sauce.

I guess people in St. Louis like cheese.

I take a bite. Then I realize—this is amazing. Like... possibly the best thing I've ever eaten. It doesn't take me long to finish the slice and grab another one.

“You know, it's fascinating watching you eat,” Bass says, from his chair.

It's then that I realize I was still standing. I take a seat beside him in an attempt to not look crazy. Or more crazy than I already do.

“Sorry,” I say. “I just... I'm not used to food yet. It doesn't seem real. Like, I'm worried I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream and I'll be back in Florida with... them. Or, maybe I’m worried that this will all stop and my dad will start starving me or something. It’s all too good to be true.”

“Serenity, you're never going back there. Ever. I promise,” he says. “Eat. I swear I won't even be mad if you eat some of my half. And you don’t have to worry about your dad. He’s not like that. He loves you.”

I grin, taking another bite. This time, I eat it a little slower, enjoying the taste.

“So, where are we exactly?” I ask.

“Missouri. Um... a town called St. Peters. It's part of St. Louis, I guess. But it's not too close to the city,” Bass says.

“Can we go see the arch?” I ask.

“Probably not. It's best to stay hidden out here,” he says. “Which reminds me.” He grabs a couple of pieces of paper from the table and hands them to me. “Our cover story.”