Page 50 of Commit
The two guys laugh, but the girl’s cheer squad steps forward to back her up. I watch to see what Starling will do. I have no doubt she can handle them. She somehow deals with me, after all.
“Shoo, nobody wants you here.” Claire gestures dismissively with her fingers.
“He does.” She nods at me, stepping around the group.
“Bullshit. We know your dad is dead, so don’t pretend he’s here for you.”
Starling reaches the passenger side and pulls the door open, looking at the growing crowd. They look between us and start to murmur when they realize I’m not stopping her.
“Like you said, I have work, and he’s my next client.” She grins as she climbs in. “He might not be my father, Claire, but he sure likes it when I call him daddy,” she yells before closing the door.
The two guys are cracking up now. But Claire looks furious. She steps toward me, reaching out a hand, but I grab her wrist and stop her.
“Don’t touch what isn’t yours, little girl.”
I shove her back, making her stumble, before I climb into the car and starting it up. Putting the car in reverse, I reach behind the headrest of Starling’s seat and look out the back window as I back out.
“Fasten your seat belt.”
For once, she does what I ask. Once I hear the seat belt click into place, I rev the engine and peel out of the parking lot much faster than necessary.
“I’m guessing those airheads aren’t friends of yours.”
“Wow, you missed your calling as a detective,” she mutters, looking out the side window.
“They always like that?”
“Not when Abbot’s around,” she says before her eyes dart to mine, like she’s surprised herself by admitting that out loud.
She’s silent for a moment as she fiddles with the strap of the bag on her lap.
“How come you picked me up?”
“Abbot texted me to say he had practice, and then he’s going out with the guys. He asked if I could pick you up. I think the more important question is, why didn’t you text me? I bought you a brand-new phone, after all.”
“Why would I? I was just going to take the train.”
“No.” I grip the steering wheel hard.
“What do you mean, no? Abbot has practice, and you have work. The train is fine. I took it most days last week,” she says, dismissively.
We’re a few miles from downtown. I do a U-turn and head for the train station.
“I don’t want you on the train, especially not in this part of the city. Besides, I thought you didn’t like crowds.”
“I’ve been taking buses and trains my whole life, and nothing’s ever happened to me. And I don’t mind crowds on trains because nobody’s paying attention to me. Everyone just wants to get where they’re going.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t be targeted. When people realize you’re with me, you’ll become more of a target.”
“Great, something else to look forward to. Can we just agree to disagree? I know you don’t like it, but I’m not going to stop taking the train.”
I don’t answer, but I feel my anger pulse under my skin at her inability to bend.
When we pull up at the station, Starling frowns. “What are we doing here? I thought we were going home?”
“We are. Leave your bag in the car.”
She looks confused, but does as I ask and climbs out, leaving her bag on the floor. I text one of Atlas’s minions to come get the car before I walk around and grab her hand. She looks around, unsure, trying to pull free, but I hold on tightly. I drag her into the station and purchase tickets for the both of us before dragging Starling down to the platform.