Home Again

Criminal

Thought I'd do two updates in one day. Message me if you're confused about any of the plot. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote comment and enjoy!

~

Clover handed T.J. the sandwich like she was accustomed to doing and he took it from her in his usual way. Then he began to eat in silence. This was abnormal.

Clover had gotten used to his obnoxious moans and his arrogant comments by now. Looking his way, she pondered. She knew something was the matter with him but she did not care enough to find out. She focused her attention again on her work station and began to clean up.

"Who taught you how to cook like this?" He asked, quietly.

She looked at him. "You already asked that."

"I know, but honestly, how'd you learn?" He asked.

"My mom," she said after considering the question.

"Is she alive?"

Clover scrubbed the counter. "No. She died two years ago."

He watched her scrub back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said.

She stopped and looked up from her work at him. A few moments later she looked back down and kept scrubbing.

"I'm more sorry that I can't thank her for this recipe." He looked at her.

Clover continued scrubbing, unaffected.

~

Two men entered the restaurant and where immediately greeted by Remy.

"Hello sirs, how may I help you?" He appraised their black suits and smiled wider.

~

"Clover, Clover," The name echoed throughout the kitchen. Remy stopped when he had found her. "Ah, there you are," he said.

"What's wrong? You seem tense, Remy." She said.

"There are two well dressed men here looking for our friend, Mr. Shelby," he fidgeted as he said the name.

She rolled her eyes. "He's back there," she motioned with her thumb. He peered over her shoulder.

"Could you go get him?" he asked. He fidgeted under her piercing gaze.

"Why don't you get him, Remy? Are you afraid?" She folded her arms.

"What? A-afraid? No? Never afraid," he looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, "it's just that you-well I...well I'd rather you...I don't think I should, you understand?" He looked up and she was gone.

"Mr. Shelby, someone's looking for you," Clover called down the hallway.

"Who?" He asked, looking up from his second plate of food.

"Remy said there are two men," she said.

"What do they look like?" He sprung down off the counter.

"I don't know...why don't you go see for yourself?"

"Did Remy tell you anything else?" He came uncomfortably close; she backed away, afraid he might kiss her again.

"He said they were well dressed. They might have been wearing suits," she said.

Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders. "Is there a back door?" He hurriedly said.

"Get off me," she squirmed in his hold.

"Listen to me!" He shook her. "You need to help me get out of here. Right now."

"I don't have to help you do anything," she shook herself loose from his grip and turned to her station.

Suddenly she felt a cold metal object press against her back through the fabric of her dress. Her blood froze.

"Now do I have your attention?" He hissed in her ear and he clicked back the safety.

~

They had made it out of the restaurant and he had forced her to keep going. He forced her to find somewhere safe for them to hide out. Hide Out. As if they were criminals. He was a criminal but she was not. He had threatened her every step of the way with that pistol dug into the flesh of her back. Several times she felt like crying. Her metal resolve had crumpled into fear and trembling. Her captor had become too sporadic to predict and she feared for her safety. She feared even more that she had been forced to take him to the safest place she knew. Well, she was new to the city and did not know many places.

"How long do you plan on staying here?" Clover hesitantly asked.

"As long as it takes for the heat to die down," he said as he playfully twirled his weapon in the air.

She nodded her head. She would never feel safe with that weapon in her home. 

~

Vote. Comment. Thanks.