Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Oh, of course, we wouldn’t want to stick out or look too suspicious,” I add, trying not to laugh.
But after we’ve driven some more miles and listed off almost everything I’m craving right now, everything I could possibly spend money on, we both fall silent.
Knowing that all we really want is to know we won’t be disturbed while we do what we’re craving right now, each other.
“That’s funny,” Rocco muses, checking both of the side mirrors.
I feel a nervous jot ripple across my belly.
Never liking it whenever Rocco thinks anything’s out of place or unusual.
It scares me.
“What is it?” I gulp, noticing his concerned look before he reassures me with another smile.
“Probably nothing, but I’m sure that car back there was following us south, and now they’re heading north, same time we are?” he says.
If he’s trying to make me feel better it’s not working.
“Rocco?” I ask him, letting him hear the worry in my voice.
“I’m sure that car’s familiar too…,” he says to himself, almost so quiet I can’t hear him, but I do.
And it sets alarm bells going off inside me.
“I could just be a little paranoid, ya know,” he grunts, shifting uneasily in his seat.
Both of us grow silent again until we take the turn off.
“See, she’s gone,” I blurt out, blowing the fact I’ve had my eyes almost tearing out of my head, sneaking peeks in the side mirrors as we’ve been driving.
“How’d you know it’s a she?” he asks, giving me a knowing, sidelong glance of his own.
“A girl just knows these things. Plus, if she has been following us all this time, it would take a woman’s smarts…,” I add.
Internally, I heave a massive sigh of relief that we’re not being followed after all.
My little observations, designed in fun, have put Rocco on edge, though.
And it’s a while before he relaxes once we find a mall with underground parking, before making our way to the nearest stores to change our appearances like he said we should.
“What about the suitcase?” I ask before we leave the old truck unattended.
It looks more out of place than our original car after all, but who knew we’d be swinging north instead of sticking to the south country route?
“Easy come, easy go.” Rocco shrugs, looking impatient as he glances around.
Not even worried one bit about what must be a few million in cash.
He’s quite happy to just take a few bundles with us and trust it’ll all be there when we get back.
“Be too much to carry around,” he reasons. “This is bad enough,” he adds, holding up fistfuls of hundreds again, crinkling them in his huge hands but only seeming to make them look shinier. Newer somehow.
What a problem to have.
And to think I was evicted and unemployed less than twenty-four hours ago.
A virgin too.
And that all feels like ancient history already.
“Will ya come on,” Rocco says, urging me to hurry, as if something awful will happen if we stay standing still.
I know he only wants me safe and us together. But how much of this is gonna be exciting before it gets old?
Before he loses interest once the adrenaline wears off.
More to the point. How am I gonna feel, living with one eye over our shoulders the whole time?
I thought that’s what Rocco was trying to get away from, but it feels like he’s just adding an enemy by disavowing his family for me.
No time for feeling sorry for myself, though.
Rocco’s steps are long, and I have to trot to keep up as well as catch up to him, even though he slows some, waiting for me by the elevator.
“It’s just until I get things sorted, okay?” he reminds me, reading my mind again, picking up on my mood, my feelings even long before I say anything.
I feel my mouth open, ready to say something, but the elevator door opens, and I gasp.
Certain that the guy coming out is from the Portello’s restaurant, one of their thugs sent to kill us.
Rocco’s unfazed and grips my hand tighter, moving us both to one side so the man can pass.
“It’s just some random guy, Jasmine. Relax, will ya?” Rocco murmurs in my ear. But he makes sure to close the doors quickly.
He makes sure nobody else can get in before we head up.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “But is it gonna take long for you to do whatever it is you have to do? Not even one full day of this and my nerves are shot already,” I murmur.
But Rocco’s not angry, and he doesn’t tell me off for whining.
His look tells me he’s already thought it over a million times, and the truth is that he just doesn’t know when we can feel one hundred percent ‘safe.’
Maybe we never will?
The doors ping open, and the sounds of a busy shopping crowd drown out our thoughts.