“I need to get back home,” I say as I push to sit up.
“So that’s how we’re going to play it?” he asks, eyeing me speculatively.
“Play what, Rick?” I push out a frustrated breath. “I’m not playing at anything.”
“Sure,” he murmurs. “We can go back home.”
“Thank you,” I say, letting out the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. It’s a huge relief, if I’m being honest. I was afraid Rick wasn’t going to let me go back to my life, not that I could go back to things the way they were after everything that happened, but I needed space to figure out what I could do to help my daughter. Maybe I could call the kidnappers back and offer a trade, her for me. But I can’t let Rick know that’s the plan, so getting some much-needed space to figure things out and get my head on straight is a huge boon.
And if life taught me anything so far, it’s not to count my chickens before they hatch. Not that I had seen many chickens in a group foster home near Newark, but still, I heard the saying many times, and still, I didn’t heed the warning. Clearly, I should have, because the expression on Rick’s rugged face can only be described as irritated, so when he opens his mouth to respond, I should have known I wasn’t getting my prayers answered—not today, not any day.
“Not so fast,” he grumbles.
“What?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t have opened my mouth, but I did anyway.
“You’re not going back to your house.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you’re coming home with me,” he says, and there’s a finality to his words that shuts down every rebuttal I could have conceived. “Get ready to leave.”
And then he stands up and leaves me in the bedroom to straighten my appearance before we leave his family home. If I had something worthy of throwing nearby, I might have been tempted. Instead, I let out a frustrated growl low enough he shouldn’t have been able to hear it. Of course, he does anyway, because that is my life.
“Go ahead and let that Jersey Girl temper out,” he shouts from the other room. “Nothing makes my cock harder faster than you in a temper tantrum.”
“It’s not a temper tantrum, you ass!” I shout back before I can stop myself.
“Still hard though.” He chuckles. “I’ve got a great way for you to work out all that aggression, baby.”
“Shut. Up.”
“I’m ready when you are,” he says, letting the double meaning of his words hang in the air.
“Well go on and keep waiting,” I grumble as I push up from the bed.
I quickly fold the covers back to where they were. Even as irritated with him as I am, I can’t leave Rick’s family home in shambles. I find my shoes in the process and slide my feet into them before shutting off the light and walking out the bedroom door.
Rick is waiting for me in the living room. I expected him to be smug about his ability to get under my skin, but he is nothing but the picture of patience, like some kind of ninja warrior ready to wait me out and goddammit, why can’t he ever be as off-balance as I always seem to be? It’s so unfair.
“I’m ready,” I say, sounding more than a little irritated, and I swear I see a twitch in the corner of his mouth like he wants to smile but knows he shouldn’t, because I am clearly a woman on the edge.
“Perfect. After you,” he says before holding the door open for me to pass through into the kitchen.
I follow him out onto the porch and watch as he locks up the house. When he’s finished his task, we walk out into the side yard and to the old barn where he stored the car. Rick slides the heavy panel door back, and we head inside.
He beeps the locks on his SUV, and we climb inside. I buckle my seatbelt silently as he starts the car. I can see out of my peripheral vision that he turns to me like he wants to say something, but I don’t give him my attention. Instead, I keep my gaze focused out the dark windshield. Rick seems to get the cold-shoulder message I’m sending and shakes his head before throwing the car in Reverse and backing out of the old barn.
He puts the car in Park and jumps out, running back to the door of the barn and slides it closed before locking it up tight. When he’s done, Rick runs back to the SUV and jumps in the driver seat, shutting his door behind him. He buckles his seatbelt and then we’re off into the night.
We don’t talk; in fact, I don’t utter a single word over the course of our long drive back to the city. Instead, I plot and plan. I have to get away from Rick. His presence is suffocating me slowly while I’m dying to try to find a way to save my daughter. It was my fault, my doing that put her in danger, and I’m going to get her out of it.
He hits the clicker for his garage door, and the heavy metal panels slide up, giving entrance to his fortress. He drives inside and cuts the engine before hitting the button again to lower the door, sealing us in.
Rick unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes his door open, stepping down. He doesn’t come around to open my door or offer me a hand. Instead, he stands there, patiently waiting for me to follow him inside his house while my own home sits mere feet away.
“I’m going to need things from my house,” I tell him, an idea popping into my head as a plan begins to form. “It would be so much easier for me to stay there.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and commanding, and I do not like it at all.
