“Just give me money.” Todd’s staring from me to Baptist with a wild look in his eyes as the desperation of the moment builds. He waves the weapon in the air like it’s a magic talisman. “Please. I don’t want to do this, lady. I just need money.”
“Put the knife down,” Baptist says slowly. He’s at my side now, his hulking body moving closer to Todd. I try to grab his arm to stop him but he shrugs me off. I don’t want him to get hurt because of me, but he’s not paying attention to anything but Todd, and my fear heightens as I worry less about myself and more about Baptist.
“Don’t come closer.” The knife comes up in a flash, swiping at the air. Baptist stops moving, inches from the edge. He looks grim but steady.
“You want money? I can give you money. But not while you’re holding that.”
“Boring,” Rodrick says and yawns. “Todd, seriously, why don’t you go get high or something?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Todd snaps and squeezes his eyes shut like he can’t believe this is happening. “Fuck, I hate this, this isn’t me, but I need cash. Please, you fucker, I know you have plenty, I mean fucking look at you, just give me some—” He twitches forward like he’s trying to underscore his point with a big gesture, a sweep of his arms, and Baptist makes his move.
In one fast motion, Baptist reaches forward and grabs Todd’s wrist, yanking him off-balance. The addict yelps in shock and surprise as Baptist twists and jams his elbow into the guy’s face, making blood spray. The knife falls to the ground with a clatter and Baptist hits him once, twice, three more times, and Todd stumbles back and crashes into a tent.
Someone inside starts cursing and the pair begin to wrestle, screaming and yelling at each other the whole time.
“Come on.” Baptist grabs my arm and drags me from the scene.
Rodrick strolls after us, his hands on his head, whistling.
Chapter17
Baptist
We drop Rodrick back at the hotel, make sure he’s set up and Cowan knows he’s there, before we leave him alone. In the car, Blair reaches out and touches my arm. I flinch slightly and realize I’ve been on edge this whole time, primed and stuck in fight-or-flight mode ever since Todd brandished that knife toward her and my mind flashed through a dozen worst-case scenarios, all of which involved Blair getting hurt.
That’s worse than anything else to me right now. I’d rather lose the movie, lose all the money I’ve invested, hell, I’d rather lose my own life than see her hurt.
“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.
“I’m fine.” My jaw works as adrenaline keeps flooding my system.
“You don’t look okay. You still have his blood on you.”
I look at my stained shirt and make a face. “Fuck.” Who knows what kind of diseases that guy has, but fortunately I didn’t get any in my eyes or mouth, it’s all on my shirt.
“Yeah. I know. Come on, let’s go back to your place.”
I say nothing and begin to drive. My head’s moving in a thousand different directions. I want to smash Cowan’s teeth through his throat and I want to burn that homeless encampment to the ground and I want to stab Rodrick through the heart with that piece-of-shit rusty knife. I want to soak myself in the blood of anyone that comes close to hurting Blair, but most of all, I want to bash my own brain against a wall for agreeing to let her come.
How many more times am I going to make the same mistake? How stupid can I be? Again and again, we stumble into these situations where she’s almost hurt, and I have to step up to make sure she gets out of it in one piece. The problem is, all it takes is one fuck-up, one mistake, and she might pay the price.
I can’t handle it. I won’t let it happen.
I brought her into this because she’s smart and capable and I respect her opinion. Now, I want to make sure she gets out of this in one piece.
“Baptist.” She touches my leg. I flinch and look at her wildly, not sure what to say. I’m spiraling, anger getting the better of me, driving me deeper and deeper into rage. “Hey. Baptist.” She touches my cheek gently, looking into my eyes. “We’re here. You parked. Come on, you can let go of the steering wheel.”
I blink a few times and realize she’s right. I went on autopilot and took my favorite spot. I must’ve driven from the hotel to my place without thinking, my mind too busy dripping with fury.
We leave the car and head into my place, flipping the lights on. Blair helps me get the shirt off, and even though I don’t need her there, I’m happy she didn’t leave me alone.
I toss the ruined button-down into the trash and stand staring at it while she lingers in the doorway.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I say and look at my hands. I walk to the sink and wash them over and over, scrubbing away the dirt. “We can’t keep going on like this.”
“Baptist—”
“How much more is he going to put us through? I don’t care about myself, Webb. I can handle this nightmare and whatever else he decides to throw at me. But I do care about you.” I dry off on a towel and toss it onto the counter. I run my hands through my hair, seething. “I know you want this. I want it too. But I’m not willing to sacrifice your safety to get it.”