“I’m okay,” I whispered, placing my hand over the one he had high on my thigh. I wanted to tell him that I’d never been that scared either but I couldn’t. Not when Dex was opening up and telling me about his own fear. He wasn’t scared of anything. Not roaches, the dark, clowns, scary movies, the possibility of getting hurt. Nothing.
The fact that he’d been scared for me speared right through my gut.
He tipped his head to touch his lips to mine. “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he murmured as his thumb brushed over my cheekbone. When I didn’t say anything in response, mainly because I was so wrapped up in his touch, he kissed the side of my mouth.
I, better than anyone, knew how unsteady life could be, but that was the beauty of it if you recognized the potential ahead of you. I had to appreciate the best things, the good man who intended to protect me, because it was real and present. Feminism be damned. I’d shouldered enough burdens alone, and let me tell you, it’s not easy.
Every nerve in my body was prepped for tears and choking emotions but I wrangled them in. I’d always considered myself strong, but on Dex’s lap with his arms around me despite the day I had, I felt invincible. I didn’t need tears. So I told him the truth that had grown roots right into the untilled section of my chest. Clear, concise, precise. “I know. I trust you.”
The movement of his hand faltered on my back. “Iris,” he whispered to my temple, his voice sounding like a croak.
This man. My heart swelled in a way that wasn't natural.
I squeezed my arms around the warmth cage of his ribs and mouthed the words I wouldn't let out of my mouth into his shirt.
Three little words that held all the power in the world.
Chapter Thirty-Four
"You want me to drive?"
I glanced at Dex sitting there, his wrist thrown loosely over the steering wheel. We'd been in Luther's truck for the last six hours and besides three pit stops, the old man—he wasn't amused when I called him that out loud—had been driving straight. He was like a man on a mission, insulting my slow driving skills the first time I'd asked him if he wanted to trade positions. His answer now, like it'd been before was the same. "I'm good."
I could rattle off plenty of things that were more than good about him but him driving for so long wasn't one of them.
The ache between my legs was a friendly reminder of one of them. As was the memory of his colored skin, and those little round studs on his Little Dexter, against me.
Ugh. It was all so hot, everything about him. My neck went warm.
"You all right over there?" he asked.
The jerk had a knowing little smile on his face. When he woke me up that morning, nearly spread out over my back, a hairy thigh tangled with mine, he'd been all hooded eyes and smug smiles. He'd ground his stiff erection against my butt in a slow circle.
And what did I do? I let him. So sue me. Even a recently former virgin knew when she was in the presence of a pretty penis. A long, perfectly thick penis.
Hell. What in the world was wrong with me? I'd gone from thinking about sex and having raging hormones right around the time of my period, to being unable to think about anything else besides all things naked-Dex related.
He'd drugged me. That had to be it.
Okay, not really, but still. That thing was practically magical.
Unfortunately, the slow morning had come crashing down too quickly when his cell phone started ringing the moment he'd eased himself over me on his hands and knees. It was Luther. And it was Luther's offer to let us borrow his truck that had Dex and I packing up our stuff to head out.
Which was how we ended up halfway to Dade county with Dex hogging the steering wheel and being an all-knowing jerk.
"I'm fine," I answered, resting my back into the corner of the truck's seat and door. “You're sure you're not too tired to drive?"
He flicked those blue eyes over, his mouth flat. "I'm ready to get outta here."
In ten hours. "Okay," I told him with a shrug.
Dex let out a long deep breath, reaching across the console to grip my thigh. "Wanna get this shit over with, Ritz."
I'd tried my best not to worry about this mess over the course of the last few hours. Going to bed after crying all over Dex had been distracting, and I'd managed to fall asleep pretty quickly but that hadn't meant that I'd been in the clear. I'd woken up at least four times over the night, sweating, nervous, battling nightmare after nightmare of what had happened at the shop. Two out of those times, I'd looked over my shoulder to find Dex wide awake, too.
Whether he'd been asleep or if I'd tossed and turned and made enough noises to wake him up, I didn't know for sure. I didn't ask either. I had slipped my fingers close to his once, and he'd rubbed my back until I fell asleep again the second time. Chances were, he'd probably slept less than me.
And I could only imagine what his own thoughts had been.
Because I knew what I'd been thinking of when I gave myself the chance to. What if...
What if my dad didn't have the money?
We were driving out to Florida to find him, but what then? What would we do if he only had ten bucks to his name?
The reality of it was...I'd make him figure it out. The possibilities were endless, and my ruthlessness was as well. I sure as heck wasn't going back to Austin until this crap was resolved. When I accepted the possibility that he was broke, I thought of Blake passed out and bleeding on Pins' floor. And that's what kept me going. But...
I would always be a worry-wart at heart.
"What do you think the chances are that he has any money?" I asked Dex without even thinking about it.
The sigh he responded with wasn't exactly reassuring. "Pretty slim more than likely, babe."
Not what I wanted to hear. "What should I do if that's the case?"
"We'll figure it out," he said putting emphasis on the first word. "Depends on the situation."
Well. While that wasn’t exactly reassuring, at least I could mentally prepare myself for the truth. I wondered if we dragged Curt Taylor back, whether the gang would call it even. Or maybe… "Know anyone in the black market? I'm sure he could live without a kidney, gallbladder, or lung if he needs to," I said, scared to investigate whether or not I was serious. Something told me I was.
Dex chuckled, squeezing my thigh. "Like the way you think, Ritz."
"You think that makes me a bad person? That I'm not completely opposed to doing something extreme to get this mess straightened out?" It suddenly worried me how nonchalant I was being about the whole thing. Could I really let my dad do something like that? I didn't feel guilty. Not in the least.
"No." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. “You can’t expect to care about somebody that hasn’t cared about you, babe. It’s only natural. Doesn’t help that he’s a fuckin’ moron on top of bein’ a piece of shit. I think you’ve wasted enough of yourself on him.”
I didn’t say anything as I thought over his words. Because he was right. Every time the old man made an appearance, he was like a harbinger of doom. The man was a human wrecking ball with no regard for others. And it was about time that I let him go completely. “You’re right.”
“Sure am,” Dex agreed with a small snort.
I groaned and leaned back into the seat, trying to relax. To ease myself out of this unholy grip that strained my emotions. “After he sells a few organs, maybe I can finally have a nice, normal life.”
Dex shot me a long side glance, his mouth twitching. "Baby, I don't know what you think normal is but you're gonna have a nice, safe life as soon as we get him. All right? You can bet on it." His tone was low, gravelly. He was mad, mad for me—in my honor, and my insides recognized it and thrived on his emotion.