“The answer is no. You’re not going with Kellen.”
Okay, that’s pure jealousy, and okay, it’s a bit cute. But I don’t want to be cooped up. I am willing to compromise, though. “Fine. How about you take us out to dinner tonight when you finish work?”
“Shit,” Dozer mutters, releasing me and scrubbing a hand over his jaw. He looks to my mom—watching us with her eagle eyes—then back to me. “I need to talk to you and Claire.”
“About what?” I ask as he waves my mother over.
He moves over by the apartment door, the distance farthest from Thea. When my mom joins us, he speaks in a quiet voice. “You can’t leave the building at all.”
“Why not?” I ask, trying not to sound hysterical, but I can tell by his expression that I’m not going to like the answer.
“It’s probable that Borovsky has been able to identify me.” Dozer explains about them asking questions at the airport and the bribes for flight information. “And if I’ve been identified, then it’s very realistic to believe they have people in Pittsburgh right now coming after you.”
“You mean here?” I ask, aghast.
Dozer shrugs. “Most likely an assault would happen at my house first. But regardless, you cannot leave this building.”
I exchange a look with my mom… a silent agreement that this isn’t so bad. We can hide out here for a bit.
“Can they get into this building?” my mom asks fearfully.
“It’s highly unlikely,” he says, but I can tell he’s withholding something.
“Dozer… please,” I say quietly but firmly. “What aren’t you saying?”
“I promise I’m not holding anything back. You are safe right here. We’ll play this day by day, and each day we’ll hope they bring Borovsky in.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling better. We’re in a safe place. Dozer will protect us.
We can wait this out.
CHAPTER 13
Dozer
This apartment is relatively cramped with four people in it, but sitting around the small table that separates the kitchenette from the living area, I can’t say I mind sharing the space with these women. Sweet Thea who can do no wrong in my eyes, and if I ever have a child of my own, I hope she’s just like her. Claire, the woman who stepped in to fill my own mother’s shoes. And then… Jess.
Formerly my dearest friend, now so much more in such a short period.
We threw together homemade pizzas after raiding the cupboards and fridge of the communal kitchen, Joslyn having suggested such a meal when I declined her invitation to cook for us. Selfishly, I want to be with these girls because I know I might not have unlimited time with them in the future.
There’s a chance I could be killed offering myself up to Borovsky, but that is the current plan. One I’m not willing to deviate from because now that I know I can have a future with Jess in all the ways I want her, I cannot wait for the police. That could take weeks… months, even.
It could never happen, so I want to end it now.
“More milk?” Jess asks Thea, her glass empty as she works on her second piece of pizza.
She drops her slice to her plate and wipes her fingers on a paper towel sitting beside her plate. “I can get it myself.”
I watch as Thea scoots her chair back, grabs her empty glass, and moves around the island to the fridge. I give Jess a pointed look as I whisper, “Since when is she old enough to pour her own milk?”
“Since she was birthed,” Claire responds for her daughter with a laugh. “That kid came out independent.”
“But she’s only seven,” I say.
“I’ll be eight next month,” Thea says from the kitchen.
“Going on thirty,” I grouse. She’s growing up, and I’m missing everything.
Thea comes back to the table and regales us with her afternoon. So far, she’s not questioned her inability to leave this place and boredom hasn’t set in. We’re careful not to talk around her about the perils facing us, which makes having dinner together right now especially nice.
I don’t want to talk about Borovsky with Claire or Jess anymore. I can’t tell them anything to make them feel better, and if they were to know what we really have planned, then all hell would break loose. If I thought Bebe was upset over this idea, I can tell you that Jess will be a hundred times more pissed at what I’m going to do.
“Uncle Dozer,” Thea says, a hint of mischief in her eyes, “do you like princesses and fairy tales?”
“Um… sure.” My mind races. Do I even know a single princess’s name? And what does she mean by fairy tales? “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” she drawls, and I can tell she’s got a speech lined up, “I want to go to Disney World. I want to see the princesses and go on roller coasters.”