Page 8 of Hunted Innocence
Lifting my eyes to meet hers, I clear my throat. “Glad you didn’t. The alarm would have been set off. I’ll do it.”
Without saying anything else, I bend slightly, curl my fingers around the handle of the bag, and pick it up before turning toward the door and tugging it open. It takes me thirty seconds to dispose of the trash and then make it back into the apartment.
I still lock the door behind me, because it would take Landon Tate ten seconds to slip inside of the apartment with my back turned. He’s a piece of shit, but he’s not stupid. He’s been able to evade us for this long. I know, without a doubt, he could best me if I weren’t on my game.
When I walk back to Nadine, I again lock the door behind me and take her in, this time really looking at her. She’s got her hair up in a messy bun, and it appears as if she’s been not just cleaning but deep cleaning, possibly out of nervousness and anxiousness, and I know that I need to check in with her.
“You good, baby?” I ask.
She jerks her chin, her eyes widening. “I’m good,” she lies.
“The fact that you’ve been cleaning like the Tasmanian devil says otherwise.”
Her eyes widen, but then she instantly presses her lips together and rolls them a few times before she makes an almost inaudible noise in the back of her throat. I watch as she takes a step backward, turning her back to me before she moves into her living room.
She sinks down on her couch, and for the first time, I notice her furniture. I was here earlier, but it was only to set up her system, so I didn’t take in her space at all. Now that I’m here andreally absorbing everything, I realize that it’s decent, but it’s not new.
Nothing in her place looks like she bought it within the last five years, which is how long she’s been working for Theron, and I know that Securus doesn’t pay her millions of dollars a year, but I also know that she’s received some fat bonuses and raises. Enough to pay her rent and outfit her whole place with inexpensive but brand-new things.
She’s told me about her past, though I’m coming to realize just from the conversation I had with her brother earlier that I don’t know everything. She’s kept some of her life close to the vest, but she shouldn’t have.
I’m here, helping her, and I can’t do that with only partial truths. So now it’s time to dig in and get to the bones of the accuracy. She’s given me the flesh, but I want down to the bones—to the goddamn marrow of it.
“What do you do with your money, Nadine?”
I’m met with silence. She stares at me for a long moment, then clears her throat. I’ve looked into her, though. We all have access to her information, and not once did I see a large amount of money sitting in any of her accounts.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re healthy enough, but now that I’m seeing what she’s got around her, it makes me wonder if she’s got it squirreled away somewhere. I’m not sure why this seems so important, but it does.
Her eyes widen before she presses her lips together and rolls them a few times. Then she lets out a heavy sigh and turns her back to me. This tells me that it’s something more than just saving it for a rainy day somewhere other than her bank accounts.
I watch as she walks over to the window, then she sinks down onto her knees. There is a small bench there. She takes outblankets and some other items, then pulls out the actual bottom of the damn thing before she lifts something else up and stands.
When she turns to face me, my brows furrow at the sight of a box in her hand. She doesn’t explain anything to me, even though I’m sure the look on my face gives away every question I have, because she smiles as she sets the box down on her small coffee table and gently opens it.
“This is my savings,” she says.
The box is stacked full of one-hundred-dollar bundles of ten-thousand-dollar straps. What the actual fuck?
“Nadine,” I hiss.
No doubt it comes out sounding as angry as I feel on the inside because the small smile she’s been wearing drops immediately, and her eyes widen. She recoils from me, no doubt sensing anger coming from me. But I’m not angry, I’m concerned.
“What the fuck are you doing with that much cash on hand?”
She shakes her head once, and with it, she effectively shakes off the expression on her face and replaces it with nothingness.
“When you’re on the run, Grayson, you need to be ready to go underground at any given moment. Don’t tell me you don’t understand that.”
I grunt because I do. All too clearly. But now it’s time for me to fully understand her reasoning for it. And it’s not just because this guy slapped her around a little bit. There is more. So much more. And I have a feeling I’m going to understand it more than she realizes.
It’s bigger than that because if he just smacked her around, she wouldn’t need to protect her brother the way she has. I see it, and now it’s time for her to explain it to me, in detail.
“You need to be honest with me now, Nadine. What the fuck is really going on here?”
NADINE
Staring at Grayson,I can’t help but think about something I learned a long time ago. Honesty is not always the best policy. Ever. In fact, honesty isn’t even in the top ten best policies. I’ll take lying through my teeth over honesty any day of the week.
