“Iwasdreaming,” he reminds me. “You just woke me. And it was a good dream. Amy Adams was in it. So, unless you’re about to make a point, I suggest you let me get backtoher.”
I rollmyeyes.
“Well?” he prompts. “What’s itgonnabe?”
“I…” My teeth chew my bottom lip. “I… sort of… needyourhelp.”
He goes silent for a beat, contemplating that. “Gonna need a few moredetails,babe.”
I hedge. “Well, see, I’m in a bit of a jam. I’m sort of… stranded.” My voice drops. “And… I didn’t have anyone elsetocall.”
I can’t see him, obviously, but there’s a tangible change in his demeanor, evident even across aphoneline.
“Are you safe?” His voice is abruptly serious. In less than two seconds, he’s shifted gears from teasing to intense. It’sdisarming.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I’msafe.”
I hear crinkling sounds — him, pulling on clothes. “Will you be able tostaysafe until I getthere?”
“Yes,” I assure him, feeling like the grandest of fools. “I’m fine. Phone-less, but fine. Honestly…” I swallow hard. “Listen, you don’t have to come. I just need you to get in touch with Phoebe for me, shewon’tmind…”
“Not a chance. I’mcoming.”
My eyes widen. “You’re not going to ask me anyquestions?”
He barely hesitates. “Babe. You calledme, a man you usually refuse to give the time of day, in middle of the damn night, sounding scared instead of like your usual sassy, full-of-shitself—”
I roll my eyes,atthat.
“—and you tell me you’re in trouble. I know you said you’re safe, but I also know you’re in more than abit of a jamif you had to resort to calling me.” He pauses. “Furthermore, I know I’m gonna be the one whohelpsyou.”
My mouth parches. “But Phoebe really won’t mind. In fact, she kind ofowesme—”
He cuts me off, sounding even more growly than usual. “Address.”
I blink in surprise. “Phoebe’saddress?”
“No.” I hear a door slam closed through the receiver. “I’m already on my way. Tell me where I’mheaded.”
Bossy, arrogant,stubbornman.
My hold tightens on the receiver. “I could be in Tibet, for allyouknow.”
There’s a beat of stony silence. “Are you inTibet?”
Isigh. “No.”
“Delilah.” An engine rumbles to life. “Address.Now.”
“Mattapan,” I mumble, wincing. “At… thecountyjail.”
He pauses, digesting that tidbit, and when he speaks again, his voice is almost… soft. For some reason, that unnerves me far more than his growls or grumbles or gloatingcomments.
“Hold tight. I’ll be there inthirty.”
The line goes dead as heclicksoff.
Crap with a side of extrafries.