My Little Pup

Chapter 20

My body lightly jostles to-and-fro as Negan speeds down the gravel road, bound for the factory. I clutch tightly to the leather seatbelt across my chest, thankful that Negan chose to drive a vehicle with the safety restraints, unlike the rust-bucket that he drove during our last voyage to the factory. God knows we need it; Negan is the epitome of a reckless driver – lead foot, taking turns too sharp, braking suddenly, etc. It's times like this when I'm glad that Negan requires the blindfold, freeing me of having to witness his driving first hand.

Through most of the trip, I've silently reflected on the past few weeks following the attack on Fat Joey. There has been an underlying tension hovering within the Sanctuary. Negan has spent a record amount of time downstairs on a daily basis, no doubt orchestrating the Saviors. From my spot at the bedroom window, I've watched him send out convoys of his men to undisclosed locations. I can only suspect that it has something to do with the attackers.

All the while, I've avoided confronting Negan on the issue. I minded my own business and went about the days as usual, speaking only when Negan spoke to me. I've silently prayed that the day would soon come and I would be able to have another meet-up with my father to get the answers that I needed. Who are these people? What are their intentions? Is Negan the sole target, or the entire Savior organization?

After weeks of anxious waiting, Negan made it known that my father had been doing a superb job of making his payments. Because of this, Negan was going to be generous enough to grant us a few hours of visitation.

Although I'm ecstatic for the long-awaited reunion with my father, there's a part of me that questions our safety on the road. We are traveling the exact route that Fat Joey traversed on the day he was attacked. To my knowledge, there has yet to be a second ambush from the enemy, but that doesn't mean they won't strike again. I suspect this is why Simon is accompanying us on our voyage today. Hearing the hum of his diesel engine following close behind us gives me one less thing to worry about.

I'm jolted from my thoughts when Negan suddenly slams on the brakes. I wince as the seatbelt locks up and painfully digs into my flesh. The engine idles for a few seconds before Negan flips the ignition off. I hear Simon pull up and park directly behind us.

"Let there be light," Negan jokes as he reaches behind my head and unties the blindfold. I can hear him then jump out and speak to Simon.

The rush of sunlight distorts the vision of my unadjusted eyes. I scrunch my face and throw my hands up to block out some of the intrusive brightness as my vision refocuses. Only when the blurriness has completely subsided do I unbuckle and hop out of the pickup.

I silently curse to myself as the movement causes my top to rise behind me, almost completely exposing my back. The shirt is a flowing, white off-the-shoulder top. Though it's cute, the damn thing will not stay in place! If I try to keep my cleavage covered, my stomach is exposed, but pulling down the material to cover my stomach leaves my cleavage practically popping out. Negan surprised me with the outfit and insisted that I wear it, which includes a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that leave little to the imagination. It's certainly outside my wheelhouse of graphic tees and jeans that don't cut off the circulation to my legs. The lone redeeming quality of wearing the outfit is that it offers a bit of relief from heat. With the Indian summer setting in, the would-be autumn coolness is put on hold until this last round of heat subsides.

I'm tugging on the hem of the garment when Negan approaches, freely swinging Lucille with each step taken. Despite the slightly uncomfortable heat, Negan remains in his leather jacket – though he's left it unzipped over his stark white tee.

"Ah, ah," he chastises, lightly smacking my hand off the fabric. "Leave it alone. It makes your tits look fine as fuck." Negan reaches forward and brushes my hair aside from where it had been partially concealing my bare shoulders and chest. He releases a deep sigh in approval, trailing the back of his knuckles down my shoulder in a barely-there touch.