Chapter 9

Nine

Roc

We’d found the town, its single traffic light glaring red, as I pressed my foot into the brake so hard I feared it might break through the rusted floor. My breathing was ragged, my palms gripping the steering wheel were sweaty, and my heart pounded. Why had Harlowe asked about my feelings for her?

I couldn’t have feelings for her. She was my protectee, she was my friend’s daughter, and she was a human. All of that made her off-limits.

I slowly uncoiled my fingers and eased my foot off the brake as the light turned green, letting the truck roll through the intersection and into the downtown that was so compact I could probably have passed through it without hitting the gas once. There was a town square that had seen more prosperous days—the gazebo was shedding paint and the bushes around it were brown—and squat, brick buildings lining the street that curled around it.

At the far end, I spotted a gas station with a circular drive, and I rolled the truck into it and beside the single pump before I killed the engine. “We found the town.”

Harlowe made a noise I couldn’t decipher as she jerked open the passenger door and slid out, slamming the door behind her with such force I expected it to fall off its hinges. I sat for another moment to catch my breath and think about what she’d said. Had Jack really blamed himself when I’d stopped coming around?

I’d never explained why I’d become more of a recluse because I’d never planned it. My aversion to humans had come about slowly, but it would be fair to say that the more wealthy, dismissive clients I worked with, the less I wanted to expose myself to their derision.

The rich and powerful of Hollywood were more than happy to use orc protection, but that didn’t mean they had any problem treating me and my orc bodyguards like the lesser creatures they believed us to be. To be fair, they probably treated everyone like that, but I felt it more keenly because I’d always been treated as an “other.”

But not by Jack.

Guilt gnawed at me. Jack had never looked at me differently or treated me differently, so why had I painted him with the same broad, orc-fearing strokes? Had it been easier to lump all humans in together? If that was the case, it didn’t make me any better than the people who shrank from the sight of green skin and tusks.

I watched Harlowe walk around the front of the truck and twist her back from side to side before putting her hands on her hips to survey the small town. I owed Jack an apology, but first, I had to finish the job he’d entrusted to me. Unfortunately, that job was the single biggest distraction I’d ever encountered.

I wrenched open the car door, careful not to tear it off, and slid from the truck. I closed the door, causing the metal to rattle and threaten to come apart. When it didn’t, I huffed out a relieved breath and prodded open the vehicle’s gas flap and unscrewed the cap. I took the fuel nozzle from the pump, shoved it into the truck, and squeezed it to start the gas pumping.

The pump stalled for a beat before the numbers started to lazily flip to indicate that gas was flowing. Even though the air carried the aroma of gasoline, it didn’t smell of manure, which I counted as a good thing. But the town looked almost as abandoned as the farm we’d left, with half of the glass-front storefronts boarded up and only a few stragglers walking about.

“Are we sure this is a town?” Harlowe whispered as she walked up to me, breaking the silence between us.

I caught her eye and was grateful to see her grinning. I jerked my head toward the intersection behind us. “It does have the traffic light.”

“Good thing neither of us sneezed going through, or we might have missed it.” Harlowe shook her head. “It’s hard to think there are places this deserted so close to LA.”

“Two hours by plane isn’t very close.”

“Still.” She flicked a hand through her hair. “LA is so busy and clogged, but there is so much open land out here. I get why people choose to live away from LA.”

“You do?” I’d seen her splashy house with a pool overlooking the city. It was hardly a small-town vibe.

She closed her eyes as she inhaled. “Do you hear that?”

I paused, straining to pick up any sounds aside from the rhythmically flipping numbers of the gas pump. Aside from the pump, there was nothing to break the quiet. No car horns. No jets overhead. No jackhammering from construction. “There’s nothing.”

“Exactly.” She opened her eyes and her smile widened. “Back in LA, there’s nonstop motion and chaos. This is a place that forward momentum forgot, and I’m here for it.”

I understood how easy it was to embrace quiet. Quiet was why I lived far enough from the city that I couldn’t hear its madness. But I also knew that up-and-coming actresses couldn’t retreat to the country if they wanted to make it big. Idaho ranches were for stars who’d made their names and their money.

“You do remember that we’re passing through?” I asked. “They’re still expecting you on-set.”

Harlowe’s smile dropped, and she spared me a withering look. “I remember. I know we can’t stay here. I was just saying that I get why people do.” She shrugged. “But, who knows? Maybe being this remote would drive me crazy after a while.”

I scanned the cracked sidewalks and dented metal awnings shading shuttered stores. “There’s a difference between remote and deserted.”

“Good point.” Harlowe patted my arm, her fingers barely touching me. “This town does give off abandoned-after-a-string-of-unsolved-murders energy.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, trying to ignore the lingering heat from her hand on my sleeve. She caught my expression and laughed. “So, I listen to too many true crime podcasts. Shoot me.”

“You enjoy true crime?”

She tilted her head at me and scrunched her lips to one side as she studied me. “What? I’m not the type?”

She wasn’t, but I doubted she would like to hear that.

“I’m not the same teenager you used to know,” she said, her words carrying a note of defiance.

Now, that was accurate. She was nothing like the gangly kid of my memories. “I will admit that you are hardly that child anymore.”

She held up a finger. “A teenager, thank you very much.”

She’d seemed like a child to me, although in the ensuing decade she was very far from what I remembered. “It was a long time ago.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Her tone was sharp, telling me she wasn’t going to let this go.

“Mine. It was all mine.”

She tapped one toe on the gas-stained pavement as if waiting for me to continue.

“The bigger my business became—all thanks to your father—the more I was reminded how different I was from my wealthy human clients. After a few movie stars who insisted on calling me Orc, usually while snapping a finger, I decided to let my staff handle the security details while I ran the company. Once I stopped going on jobs myself, it was easier to stay away from humans altogether. Unfortunately, that meant I stopped visiting your father, but it was never his fault.”

“Clients called you Orc? And they snapped their fingers at you?” Her piercing stare had become a stormy scowl. “What a bunch of assholes. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” She released a groan. “Fucking movie stars. They’re the worst.”

I stared at her, not wanting to point out the obvious.

As if sensing what was on the verge of spilling from my lips, she threw her hands in the air. “I know, I know. I’m a mess of contradictions.”

The gas nozzle clicked, and I removed it from the truck.

“At least now I know why you stopped coming around, and I’m glad it wasn’t because you stopped liking us.”

“That was never it.”

She grinned and nodded. “Good. I guess we’d better get going then.”

I twisted the gas cap back into place as Harlowe returned to her side of the truck, and I headed inside the station to pay. I should have felt relieved that she knew the truth, but with each barrier between us that fell, I felt more and more out of my depth. What would happen when there were no more walls to keep me from her?