"I can't. I have to work."
"That can wait."
"No, it can't." She moistened her lips. "The sooner I can—"
"Aubrey." His deep voice vibrated through her. "Get a jacket. Now."
She rubbed her pounding head. "A jacket?"
"I rode my motorcycle over here. We're going for a ride."
There was no use arguing with him. He wasn't going to budge. She went to her bedroom, found a jean jacket, stopped in the bathroom, took some Tylenol, and returned to Serge's side.
"Ready?" He held out his hand.
She nodded. It wasn't like she had a choice. Things couldn't get any worse.
Chapter Twenty Six
Atrain passed overhead, deafening Aubrey to everything around her. Litter floated in the air, showering the homeless encampment below. She ducked her head, unaware of why Serge would bring her after warning her about how dangerous it was.
The overpass blocked out the setting sun. A chill rolled through her. They shouldn't be here. The others would look at them and know they didn't belong.
The train noise faded. Serge held her hand and led her toward the tents staked three rows deep on each side, with a walkway running through the middle.
People stood around, some in groups and some alone. All of them averted their gaze. She wasn't even sure if they were aware of her walking among them. They were like shadows passing in the night.
Serge's grip on her hand pinched her fingers together. She looked up at him, wanting to ask why he had brought her here, but he had closed himself off. Everything about him remained attuned to their surroundings.
He walked silently with the hood of his hoodie pulled over his head, exactly like he'd looked the first time she spotted him inside the shelter.
And like that time, he moved quietly. Whether he wanted to avoid reminders of his past or block out all the suffering, she would never know, because he refused to talk much about growing up in a homeless camp.
She knew he was aware of her beside him by the way he continually held her hand.
He stopped. An older man stepped out of a tent and approached Serge.
