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“Yeah, she is but also recognizable, which is another reason we have to keep going,” he murmured, his head shifting back and forth.
There was no way of grasping how he felt, but his sense of urgency was tangible. No matter where he’d parked, we were out in the open and very much in danger. I didn’t resist as he helped Zorro into the narrow back seat, also directing me to do the same, even lying down on the bench seat. I obeyed his command, slinking down and against the soft material, shivering as he started the engine. Taking several deep breaths, I heard Zorro whining just over my head. This was surreal. This was horrifying.
This was yet another nightmare.
All that I could tell is that the drive took almost an hour, weaving in and out of traffic, but with fewer sounds toward the end. I was tempted more than once to hunker over the seat and demand where we were going. I was also tempted to curl up into a ball and act like a sniveling child. Neither was satisfactory, but patience had never been a virtue I’d been able to grasp, even less so now.
When I hadn’t heard sounds of traffic in any direction for a solid ten minutes, I dared ask the burning question. “Where are you taking me?”
“A place I rented. We should be safe there for the time being,” he answered with almost no inflection in his voice. He was in business mode, or maybe I should call it assassination mode, prepared for any form of attack.
I stared up at the ceiling of the truck as Zorro nuzzled closer. I wasn’t entirely certain if I’d ever feel safe again. Maybe that was the point. There was no secure location, nowhere to get away from evil. Closing my eyes, I braced for seeing Jericho’s laughing face, the posterchild of demonic activity. Oddly, there was nothing but blackness.
The truck slowed, forcing me to open my eyes.
“No one followed us. You can get up now,” Blade commented.
“Get off me, baby.” Moving Zorro, I’m not certain what I was prepared to see, but the quaint front of a little house wasn’t it. The turquoise front door and shutters along with the whitewashed front porch created a tropical ambiance, even if overgrown shrubs almost covered the stairs. Palm trees flanked the two corners, their fronds flickering in the light breeze. Cobwebs crowded in every corner, pollen covering almost every surface, remnants of the gooey yellow substance having fallen months before. I could tell the location hadn’t been occupied in a very long time. “You rented this?” I glanced out the back window, surveying the trees surrounding what appeared to be a long gravel driveway. Various blooming shrubs were dotted along the pathway, hibiscus in the colors of tangerine and pink lemonade dotting the deep green foliage. The setting was secluded but breathtaking, even in its disheveled appearance.
“Yeah. This is a good location. Safe. Been on the market for a long time. The place also came furnished, which is a plus.” Blade seemed to try to gauge my reaction, as if I had a choice. “Let’s get you both inside. We weren’t followed but from what I’ve heard, the Desperados have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Carter?”
“Maybe.”
I had to face the fact that I wasn’t a good judge of character. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves. “I don’t understand how you managed to do this. Do you know someone here in town? How did you get your hands on this place?”
He finally offered a slight grin, tipping his head in my direction as he cut the engine and grabbed the keys. “Enough money can buy you almost anything, including anonymity.”
Enough money. Blood money.
Wonderful.
The minute he opened the driver’s door, the wafting scent of the sea air floated inside the cab. We were by the ocean. A dichotomy of emotions rolled like violent waves into my system. He’d rented a little house by the ocean. Why go to this extreme? Why? So many thoughts were running through my head, concepts that didn’t make any real sense. We weren’t a couple. I also thought safe houses were darkened buildings, discreet and with no windows. “This is by the sea.”
“You said you hadn’t been to the ocean in some time.” His words lingered. “I figured this was as good a place as any. We’re a good twenty miles outside of Charleston.”
I had no idea how to answer him, or even if I should. My hand was shaking as I opened the truck door. Even placing one foot on the ground seemed odd yet a serene sensation crowded my system.
“Come on. I need you inside,” Blade stated, sighing when I folded my arms. “Look, I checked out everything, even putting in a few security precautions before I came for you,” he encouraged, grabbing all the bags in one hand, the gun held firmly in the other. I’d never be able to get used to seeing the weapon in his hand. My thoughts drifted to a few times living with Jericho, when we were basically under house arrest, his goons surrounding the near-mansion. One or two guns had always been with the man, even during moments of passion. There were too many similarities.
Yet I had to believe this was entirely different.
Zorro jumped out of the truck, happy to be in a location where he could run and play. I stood by the front of the vehicle, taking several deep breaths. I was hesitant to even walk up the stairs, reasons that honestly didn’t make any clear sense. Trust. The word kept playing over in my mind. Could I really trust Blade? The first instinctual answer was the one I decided to accept.
With my life.
The door creaked as it was opened and with Blade’s hulking body standing in the doorway, I was unable to see anything past his broad shoulders.
“Just stay here while I double-check,” he commanded as he dropped the bags in the front foyer and moved inside, crouching over as he made his way into the interior of the house.
Bounding to my side, Zorro’s tail wagged and he thumped his head against my leg. He was so trusting, so giving and I had to believe that the dog’s instincts were better than my own.
“All clear.”
The moment I walked past the threshold, I almost lost sense of what we were doing here. From the exterior, the house held the appearance of someone who’d cared a long time ago. With every step, I could see that I was wrong in my assumptions. Whatever had occurred, forcing the previous owners to leave, didn’t seem to be of their own accord. The house was immaculate and gorgeous inside, stylized as a true beach cottage. Overstuffed furniture and gleaming stainless-steel appliances were grounded by tile floors and granite countertops. Everything was a direct contradiction to the exterior. Maybe an older couple had owned it before. Maybe even death had been the reason for their departure. I bit my lower lip, trying to imagine living with the same person for years, growing old together.
Blade remained silent, his reactions stoic.
