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“Callie, stay in the truck, I can’t be worried about you and watch over my shoulder at the same time. Tell me you understand,” I demand, harsher than I mean to, but I need her to know how serious I am. I’m hoping not, but this could be a sketchy situation and all that I care about is her safety.
“Okay, I’ll stay in the truck,” she whispers again like she can’t quite find her voice.
I feel shitty raising my voice like that, but her being safe is the top priority, and has been since I met her. I should apologize, or say something to make her feel better, but I’m at a loss of what to say. Not surprisingly.
Instead, I shrug off my jacket, preparing to get out of the truck, but she grabs my forearm before I can. It’s a light touch but it stops me like a vice grip.
It’s the same reaction I had this morning when I woke up to her head lying on my bicep. I told myself I wouldn’t move because I didn’t want to disturb her sleep, but really, I enjoyed how close she was. I laid there for a long ass time, hardly breathing, so she wouldn’t wake up. But, once she did, I pretended to be asleep so she wasn’t alarmed by how close we were.
Like a coward, I wasn’t ready to confront her or the feelings she was eliciting in me. I have no control over it and it’s pissing me off.
“Please be careful,” she says, bringing me back to the moment, but the look in her eyes tells me she’s terrified. The last time she was in this exact spot, her world was turned upside down. I don’t blame her for being afraid. I place my hand over hers, squeezing it again like before, but this time my hold lingers. Seeing her fear eats at me, making me want to keep her close, my instincts screaming to protect her.
“I’ll be fine. Watch my back, if you see anything, or anyone, just honk the horn. I’ll come back to you, I promise.” Still not wanting to let go, I keep my hand covering hers, waiting for her to let me go first.
Still worried, she doesn’t budge, her eyes clinging to mine like she’s trying to draw strength from me. If only she realized how weak I am already when it comes to her.
I don’t want to leave her, but I need to get this shit over with, so reluctantly I pull away from her, severing our connection. Her fingers trail down my arm as she releases her grip on me and I fucking savor it, missing the feel of her soft skin against mine immediately.
The road’s quiet but it means we’re pretty exposed like this, and with no witnesses. I’m just glad I’m doing it so Callie doesn’t have to. I’d rather take the risk than her every time.
I check the driver’s door and it’s unlocked, the keys sitting in the cup holder. I don’t know if that’s where she left them, but it’s a miracle the car wasn’t stolen. I start the car to make sure it still runs, and that they didn’t mess with the engine. It turns over right away, that’s a good sign. Hopefully, nothing else has been messed with. These guys were cocky, they didn’t anticipate her escaping, or running back to her vehicle.
I look around the inside of the car, making sure there are no surprises. The back seat is filled with two suitcases and a couple of storage boxes. There is a backpack sitting on the passenger seat beside me, and another bag on the floorboard. The car is packed tight, but it doesn’t look to be disturbed. I don’t think they rummaged through her stuff after they took her, but she’ll have to check later once we’re somewhere safe.
I turn it off and pop the trunk, finding the spare tire and tools thrown into the trunk haphazardly. It looks like something they did as an afterthought, not wanting to draw attention to the abandoned car.
I scan the roadway and treeline again, making sure no surprises are lurking before grabbing the tire and the tools. Besides the eyes I feel on my back from the truck, things seem to be quiet, so I get to work.
Chapter Seventeen
Callie
The trembling has come back. My whole body is tense as I watch Nathan pull the tire out of my trunk. The tire I know was sitting against my car yesterday. My eyes keep bouncing around, to the woods, up the road, checking each mirror, waiting for an attack.
I’m incredibly anxious sitting here, but not daring enough to get out of the truck. Primarily because I don’t want Nathan worrying about me, but I’m also too afraid to stand outside in the exact place I was assaulted. So much has happened since yesterday, it’s hard to believe that it’s only been a day.
Needing to calm myself down so I don’t have a panic attack, I try focusing on what Nathan’s doing. He’s already jacked the car up and is working on taking the lug nuts off. Once he gets all of them off, he straightens up, checking his surroundings, including glancing in my direction. He catches my eyes through the windshield, so I give him a half smile, indicating that I’m okay, because I know that’s why he’s looking at me. He shoots me a wink before going back to his task, as if that simple gesture didn’t just turn me crimson. He can not do things like that, my heart can’t handle it.
I try my best to continue checking all of my vantage points for danger, but my eyes keep drawing back to Nathan, way more often than necessary. I try to convince myself it’s for his well-being, but I can taste the bitterness of that lie.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt, and my gaze lingers on his arms. His biceps strain against the sleeves where his muscles flex as he works on the tire. He lifts the old tire off with ease, making quick work of putting the spare on. When he kneels down to screw the lugnuts back on, I can see the rippled muscles of his back through the thin material of his shirt.
I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the visceral effect it has on me. My cheeks warm, and I can feel heat creeping down my neck to my chest. My stomach tightens just thinking about running my hands across his back, down his arms. How would he react if I slid my hands around his waist to his stomach? Then lower?…
Holy crap, I need to pull myself together, fantasizing about him is not helpful right now.
Luckily, while I’ve been distracted he’s already lowered my car off the jack and is putting my old tire in the trunk. I watch as he stands there for a minute, examining it, before shutting the trunk and coming back to his truck. To me.
He looks lost in thought as he gets in and shuts his door, not saying anything right away. I don’t say anything either, using the silence as a chance to let my cheeks return to their normal color. I just know he wouldn’t believe the rosy tint is from the heat blowing in the truck, he’d probably see right through me.
“It wasn’t an accident,” he says, distracting me from my inner embarrassment. I look over at him, but he’s still staring off towards my car, still in his own head.
“What do you mean?” I ask, but my gut warns me about what he’s going to say. He finally looks over at me, studying me for a second with his calculating gray eyes.
“Your tire still had the spike strip stuck to it. Something like that would only be on the road for one reason, and it did its job. They might not have picked you out as a target intentionally, but they definitely intended for this to happen to someone,” Nathan finishes speaking through a clenched jaw.
He looks angry, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. I’m not sure how to react, or what to say, I feel empty. My mind can’t contemplate anyone being so evil, that anyone could really be brazen enough to set a trap like this on purpose. They intended to take someone, and they got me, but what was their plan once they had me? If I wouldn’t have escaped out of their van, where would they have taken me? What did they want to do to me?
