“Oh,” I said, looking out the window.
“You’re not going to ask why? Just when I thought you were becoming predictable.”
“Would you answer me truthfully if I keep asking questions?”
“No.”
I didn’t bother with a rebuttal. It was clear Slash wasn’t interested in small talk. We finally arrived at the clinic. The parking lot was lit up with several city lights, but when I saw two guys patrolling the front, I instantly shrank back into my seat.
Slash cut the engine and looked at me. “Hey.”
I gnawed on my lip.
“Hey,” he said again. “What’s wrong?”
“Those men…”
“They’re security. You don’t need to worry.”
“Well, now I’m even more worried. Why does a health clinic need security?”
He didn’t answer as he climbed out of the car. I fumbled with my seat-belt buckle. Before I could get the door open, Slash was there and he helped me out.
His hand was rough, callused.
Strong.
I wobbled.
“Easy,” he murmured, his arm coming around me. “Does your head hurt?”
“A little.”
My head hadn’t been the reason for me swaying.
It had been his touch. It electrified me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
We headed to the front doors of the clinic. The two tall, heavily muscled men who were clearly packing heat stepped in front of us.
“You Slash?” one of them asked.
“Yeah,” Slash replied.
The man nodded. “Doc’s expecting you. Third floor.”
Slash ushered me into the building as the other security guard held open the door.
The lobby was empty. Leafy plants perched on the ledge of the vacant front desk and one wall was a brightly painted mural that looked like it had been done by kids.
It made me smile.
“You can let me go,” I said to Slash when we were waiting for the elevator.
He acted like he hadn’t heard me.
I tried to move away.
His arm tightened firmly around me.