“Nah, you earned it.”
“Well, I don’t like the way it feels.”
She doesn’t like the way it feels. Hannah Munn is so pure, it makes my head spin. She’s not innocent or naive. Not a mouse. She’s just… kind. Good. Honest.
And she feels bad now because bitchiness is not her natural state. Grace could pull a cunt all day long and would never apologize for it. Hannah didn’t even come close to offending me, and she can’t let it ride.
“It was uncalled for. You helped me with money at the bank and with the van.” Her voice breaks a little.
Aw, shit, is she crumpling? Over this?
“Come here, Flowers.” I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. “It’s all right. It’s just money. You gotta get over your fear of it.”
“I’m not afraid of money,” she says, sounding even more upset. She pushes out of my embrace, and I let her go.
“You might not be afraid, but it’s your sore spot, for sure. You get more upset about money than you do about anything. Even what happened yesterday.”
“Well, it’s a big deal,” she snaps.
“It’s not. You’ve made it a big deal. It’s just money.”
“Have you ever not had enough?” she demands.
My memory flashes back to my teen years. My first job for Don G., providing security at Lollipops at age sixteen. Flexing my muscles and pretending to play hero to a bunch of naked girls. I got a taste for cash. Seeing the guys flash it around, going home with a wad of it in my pocket. Buying groceries and gas for my mom. Telling her to quit her second job. “I always wanted more,” I admit. “That’s how I got into the organization.”
Her eyes widen, and she goes quiet, chewing on that. “Are you ever sorry?”
I let out a snort. Am I? I’m not even allowed to think it. I can’t think it because if I do, there’s no reason to go on living.
Once you’re in, you don’t get out, except in a body bag.
“Officially, no.”
“Unofficially?” she asks softly.
“I have some regrets,” I admit. “But there’s no exit ticket. I’m in it for life now.” I shrug. “I gotta make it work.”
She blinks those curled lashes at me, seeing so much more than I want to show.
I gotta change the topic. “Come on, Flowers. Groceries are on me, so finish filling up this cart. I don’t know what you like.”
“Lobster and caviar, it is.” She tosses her hair and swishes her hips as she pushes the cart down the aisle.
That twitchy feeling returns around my mouth.
A smile. Hannah makes me want to smile.
“If my princess wants lobster, then lobster it is,” I say.
She pauses, nibbles her bottom lip, and then reaches for a box of plug-in air fresheners. “I’d prefer these over lobster. Help with the kitty smell. They’re just super expensive for some oil you plug into the wall. But?—”
I snatch them from her hand, not even looking at the price. “You’re a cheap date.”
She smiles again—a smile I could look at all day every day—and continues toward the check out.
We walk outside, and the thump of bass assaults us from a Chevy Impala low-rider. I whirl to face Hannah, catching the cart to stop it and her.
“What?” Her eyes widen. She’s smart enough to recognize my urgency and scans the street, following the vehicle with her gaze. “You know them?”
