Off Chance by Sawyer Bennett

  I focus my gaze on Capone and he looks back at me with his soft, brown eyes. My heart melts even further, and suddenly I could care less that I'm homeless and have just a set of surgical scrubs to my name. I have my best friend with me now, and with that, I can accomplish anything.

  Gratitude for Flynn's help overwhelms me and I look up at him. I hope he understands the sincerity in my voice when I say, "Thank you."

  "It was nothing."

  Reaching out, I grab a hold of his wrist. His gaze flickers down briefly to where we are touching and then back to me. "No... it was everything to me. Capone is the most important part of my life and I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found him."

  To prove he is in puppy heaven, Capone rolls over on his back and bares his belly to me. I start to scratch him there and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Taking a moment, I grab each paw and run my fingers over the pads, checking for cuts. He seems to be good and I sigh in relief he hasn't been hurt.

  Flynn rocks backward from his squat and sits down on the grass across from us. Gazing over my shoulder to the burned-out house, he says, "I assume everything you owned was in there?"

  "Yeah. Just clothes though. Nothing much."

  "What about money? Credit cards? ID?"

  "Nope," I say but I don't elaborate further. Juice had taken all of my money except for a small, secret stash I left at a friend's house, I've never had a credit card in my life and I didn't have any ID. When I left home at the age of eighteen, I changed my name but not in a formally legal manner. As far as the real world knew, I was still Anne Marie Cleeden. As far as my world was concerned, I was Rowan Page and had been from the day I stepped foot into New York City.

  I've never needed an ID because every job I've worked has always been for cash under the table. Never filed a tax return in my life, but then again, I couldn't... Rowan Page doesn't really exist on paper.

  "So where are you going to stay? Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

  While I'm gratefully appreciative of the help that Flynn has given me, it's time to part ways. I'm a loner and I hate relying on anyone but myself. So the lie falls easily from my lips. "Sure... I have a few friends I can crash with until I can get back on my feet. You really don't have to hang around here."

  Flynn gives me a smile. "Well, at least let me give you and Capone a ride."

  I shoot him back an equally nice smile so he doesn't sense my lies. "Oh, no need. I'll just call one of them to pick me up."

  Reaching into his pocket, Flynn pulls out his cell phone and hands it to me. "Here... give them a call and I'll wait with you."

  When you've lived on your own the way I have, and when you've had to scrape, scrabble, and lie just to survive, I never even hesitate in carrying out my duplicity. Taking the phone, I punch in a fake number and hold it to my ear. I wait a sufficient time for my "friend" to answer and then I carry on a conversation purely for Flynn's benefit.

  "Hey Lori! What's up, girl?"

  I wait a few moments, pretending to listen to my "friend". I even glance at Flynn and motion with my free hand that she's a chatterbox.

  "So listen... I need a place to crash for a few nights. Can you take Capone and me in?" Glancing down at Capone, I give his belly a pat. "That's great. I knew I could count on you. I'm at Juice's house. Okay... see you in about twenty minutes."

  I pretend to listen to my "friend" chatter for a few more minutes, rolling my eyes at Flynn. Then I give a fake goodbye and hang up.

  Handing the phone back to Flynn, I say, "All taken care of. Lori will come get me. You can go ahead and head home now. No sense in waiting."

  Flynn just holds the phone in his hand and watches me for a moment. His perusal makes me a little nervous but then he stands from the ground. "You're sure you don't want me to wait with you?"

  Shaking my head and giving him a reassuring smile, I tell him, "No. Honestly, we're good. Capone and I will just hang here and wait for Lauren."

  Something flickers in Flynn's hazel eyes and he says, "I thought you said her name was Lori."

  Shrugging my shoulders, I don't miss a beat. "It is... Lauren's her full name. I call her Lori sometimes though."

  Flynn shoots me a grin that pulls his dimple out in full force. He punches something on his phone and then holds it out to me. I can see from the face of the phone that he's redialed the number I called and then pushed the speakerphone button so I could hear.

  The recording comes through loud and clear. "We're sorry but you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please hang up and try your call again."

  Fuck. Busted.

  But I don't even have the grace to be embarrassed. I shrug my shoulders and smirk at him. "So what? You caught me in a lie. Not the first I've told."

  He doesn't even bother to chastise me. "So where will you stay tonight?"

  "I'll figure something out. I always do."

  Flynn stares down at me, his eyes flicking from me to Capone. When they land back on me, he says, "Come on. You can stay at my apartment tonight and we'll figure out something to do."

  "No. No way. I appreciate it but not going to happen."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't like owing people and I don't go home with strange men."

  "I'm not a strange man. I just saved your life this morning."

  Shrugging my shoulders to tell him I don't care, I say, "I don't need any help."

  Flynn gives me a wry laugh. "First, you do need help, and second, you won't owe me a thing. Just consider this something I want to do out of the goodness of my heart."

  Anger surges through me for a split second, and my voice is cold. "I'm not a fucking charity case."

  I expect Flynn to back away from my wrath, because I can be a mean bitch when I want to, but he just offers me another smirk. "I don't consider you a charity case. I have no doubt you can take care of yourself. But think about this... Capone is probably exhausted and he could use a good meal. If you won't accept my help for you, how about accept it for him?"

  I stare at him hard for just a moment, casually noting how the late afternoon sun makes his eyes glow. My resolve is weakening, only because I'm tired, hungry, and I'm finding my own pride may have some limits. Then my eyes go down to Capone. He's sound asleep on his back, my fingers grazing the hair on his belly. I can't help the dopey smile that comes to my face just by looking at the bag of fur lying there, and I'm sure my expression tells Flynn that I've just capitulated.

  Rowan Page is one tough nut. If it were just her, sitting in front of her psycho ex-boyfriend's house, wearing nothing but paper-thin scrubs and faced with spending the night in the streets, she would have never accepted my help. But it was a slam-dunk move for me to bring her dog into play. She cares more about that beast than she does about herself and I have no shame in using that against her.

  "Well, let's get going. I'm going to need to stop at a store to get some dog food."

  I hold my hand out to her to help her from the ground. She ignores it and springs up from the grass on her own. We walk silently to the car and Capone follows. Even as tired as I know she must be--even as beat-down as she must be feeling--I'm amazed that she walks with her shoulders straight and her head held high.

  Rowan opens the back door and motions for Capone to jump in. He does and lies down across the seat, apparently exhausted from his all-day adventure outside. I'm going to be cleaning out dog hair for months, I can tell.

  Rowan and I get in the car and we take off toward the nearest Key Food. I briefly contemplate heading to Gateway Center so I can get some clothes for Rowan, but I'm afraid she'll bolt if I leave her alone too long.

  To kill some time and try to figure out the enigma that is this woman, I glance over at her and ask, "So... what's your story?"

  She looks at me sharply. "Mind your own business. My story's not that interesting anyway."

  I'm not deterred, and her sta
ndoffish attitude makes me even more determined. "Not interesting? You were chained to a bed and nearly burned alive by your drug-dealing ex-boyfriend, and you're saved at the last minute by your wonder-mutt and a dashingly handsome firefighter. You seriously don't think you're interesting?"

  Glancing back at her, I can see the corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly but they never even come anywhere close to a real smile. I'm relieved to know, however, that this ball-busting girl has a small measure of humor inside. That is completely at odds with her tough persona, and now makes her a gazillion times more interesting.

  I literally have no choice but to press on.

  "Come on... tell me something to satisfy my curiosity. How old are you?"

  She apparently thinks that's safe enough and quickly answers, "Just turned twenty-three."

  I let a brief silence stretch on, waiting to see if she'll say anything else. She doesn't, nor does she even appear to have any curiosity about me... the strange man who she is going to be staying the night with.

  "I'm twenty-six," I tell her, just to keep the conversation going. "Where are you from originally? I hear a little bit of a southern accent, right?"

  She doesn't answer as quickly and her words are softer... more tentative than the brash way she normally talks. "I left Texas when I was eighteen and haven't looked back."

  The silence that lays heavy after that statement tells me this is not a subject near and dear to her heart. I can tell that leaving Texas was both a blessing and a curse for her.

  I ponder my next question, because while I know this girl and her dog will stay with me tonight, I can't help but worry what will become of her tomorrow. It's none of my business... I know that. But she's just demonstrated that she has no one else that will help her, not a single person she could call for help, and there's no way I'm letting her stay out on the streets.

  "Listen... I'm not trying to pry into your business and I'm not going to tell the cops anything, but what's the deal with this guy? Was he trying to kill you? You know the cops could protect you."

  She snorts at me and when I glance at her, she's giving me a chastising look. "Get real. You saw that cop back at the hospital. They want me to get to Juice. They want Juice to get to his supplier. The safest thing for me would be to just get lost and hope Juice doesn't find me."

  She's in a tough place. I get it. I certainly don't know anything about the drug world but the one thing I do know is that it is big money, and that type of money is always more important than a human life, which does put her at risk.

  "I understand," I tell her, and I sincerely mean it. "I'm not so sure I wouldn't do the same thing as you."

  She doesn't say anything and I don't ask any further questions. The silence lays heavy between us but it doesn't mean I'm not trying to think of a game plan. Maybe she could stay with me for a while until we could figure out how to get her out of danger. Which sounds fucking ludicrous because I know it's not my problem.

  "You really mean that?"

  My thoughts are interrupted by her soft voice. "Mean what?"

  "That you get why I don't want to deal with the cops."

  "Yeah... I do. Sounds dangerous to me, and they have bigger fish to fry. I'm not saying I don't think the cops could be of help at some point, but I do understand you not wanting to trust them. I respect it."

  She doesn't respond and I take a quick glance at her. She's just staring at me with bewilderment in her eyes. It's like she's seeing me for the first time and isn't exactly sure what she's looking at.

  "So, you gonna share with me anything else about yourself?" I ask her, hoping that I've shown her I have her best interests at heart. She doesn't even have the manners to respond, but just looks out her window, staring at the city rolling by.

  "No, huh?" I decide to keep talking, even if she doesn't want to participate. I've always been a chatterbox--my mom's words, not mine--and I want her to see that she can trust me.

  "I'm from New Jersey originally... Englewood. Both my parents still live there and I get over to visit as much as possible. My sister, Renner, just moved to Ireland... following her new boyfriend. He plays in a band or some shit like that and he's on tour now."

  My heart stutters for a beat... thinking of Renner. I hope she's okay, and I hope she's happy. We text each other nearly every day, and she certainly seems to be both. I'm really happy for her, but damn if I don't miss her like crazy.

  The monologue continues. "I don't have any other siblings but I have two cousins that are about as close as brothers to me. My cousin, Nix, lives across the river, near my parents and his dad. He's a metal artist but he also builds custom motorcycles. And his brother, Linc, just moved to Phoenix. He plays--"

  "Linc Caldwell? As in the former goalie for the Rangers?"

  I turn and grin at her, psyched that I found something to engage her in conversation. "Yup. The one and only. Are you a fan?"

  Turning my eyes back to the road, I can't help but take one more quick peek at her. I see a wisp of a smile and her eyes look a bit livelier. "I love hockey and definitely pull for the Rangers. I was sad to see him go."

  "Yeah... he was sad to go to. I can get you an autographed picture or something if you want."

  Her voice is sharp as a razor. "And just what would I do with it? Frame it and set it on the mantel that hangs over my fireplace?"

  Damn, this girl is shrouded in iron.

  Just when I thought I had her softened up a bit, she closes back up. Luckily, the conversation is saved from going further as I pull up to the grocer near my apartment. Putting the car in park, I leave the engine running so she and Capone will have the air conditioning.

  I point to the backseat where I can see Capone is snoozing hard. "Anything in particular he likes to eat?"

  "Just any type of dry dog food. Just get a small bag though, as he'll only need enough for tonight and for tomorrow morning."

  Her statement is clear... she's moving on come sunrise.

  "You got it. Be back in a few." I stare at her a moment before exiting the car, but she turns away and continues staring out the passenger window.

  The dog food has been purchased and the ride to my apartment was done in absolute silence. After parking in my assigned spot, I walk with Rowan and Capone up the three flights of stairs to my humble abode. I've got my duffel bag slung over one shoulder and I'm carrying a thirty-pound bag of dog food over the other. Rowan has her hand lightly on Capone's collar but I don't think she's really afraid he'll bolt off.

  When I came out of the store carrying the huge bag of dog food, she didn't say anything, just raised her eyebrows at me. The fact that I bought such a huge bag of food sends a clear message as well... she's welcome to stay a few days longer if she needs to. At least I'm guessing that's what my subconscious is telling her.

  When we reach my door, I look down at her. "Can you grab my keys? They're in my front right pocket."

  The minute I ask the question, I'm suddenly aware that could be seen as a very lewd and inappropriate request. But Rowan only says a quick, "Yup" and then her hand is disappearing into my pants. She makes quick work of grabbing my keys--which are luckily resting in the part of my pocket that lays against the outer part of my thigh--and holds them up to me.

  "It's the silver one on the end. It opens the deadbolt and the door lock."

  Rowan makes quick work of the locks and opens the door, stepping back so I can walk in first. Throwing my duffel to the floor, I walk into the kitchen and set the dog food down. I hear the front door close and the locks re-engage, and then Rowan walks in behind me with Capone on her heels.

  "Do you mind if I feed him and give him some water?"

  "Not at all."

  Reaching into a cupboard, I pull out two large, stainless-steel bowls. I hand her one and I take the other to the sink to fill up. I can hear Rowan ripping into the dog food and scooping some into the bowl.

  Capone is in doggie heaven when we set both of the bowls down. Poor pup goes immedi
ately for the water, and I'm not surprised with him running around outside all day. After he has his fill, he lifts that big, shaggy head and water spills out from the sides of his mouth all over my floor. Grimacing inside, I resist the urge to get a towel and mop it up. I don't want to do anything that makes Rowan feel uncomfortable to be here, and if I have to learn to live with some dog slobber, then I'll do it.

  Capone turns to the food and starts chomping away. We both just watch him silently for a few minutes. He's a clear multitasker because he steadily keeps his face buried in the food, all the while wagging his tail to show his happiness.

  When I look at Rowan, she's watching him with a look of worry on her face.

  "What's wrong?" I ask.

  She doesn't respond at first and then she slowly drags her gaze away from the dog, but by the time her eyes meet mine, the worry is gone. "Nothing. I'm good. Just happy to have him back."

  She's lying to me... I know it. She's very smooth at it and makes her transition easily, but I can still see the lie in her eyes.

  "Tell you what... let's discuss a game plan for the night. I suggest we order a pizza to be delivered. I'm sure you'd like a nice shower, since you smell like the inside of a fireplace, and I'll give you some of my clothes to wear for the night. Then we'll discuss your next move."

  She opens her mouth as if she's going to argue with me about discussing her next move, but then just as quickly shuts it. I'm clever enough to know that she's not capitulating, just putting off having to engage in conversation with me.

  "I'll take you up on that," she says. "But I need to walk Capone after he's done eating."

  "I'll handle that," I tell her. "Come on back to my room... let me grab you some clothes and you can get in the shower."

  She follows me back down the short hall to my bedroom. Opening the door, I sigh inwardly at the mess. I've got dirty clothes strewn all over the floor and old beer bottles on the nightstand. At least I don't keep dirty dishes back here.

  Reaching into my dresser drawer, I pull out a t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts that have a drawstring that she can use to keep them up around her tiny waist. She takes them and I point across the hall. "Bathroom is right there. Clean towels are under the sink."