I go slack in his arms. A few seconds pass before his grip on me loosens and he turns me around to face him.
His eyes are pools of pure darkness. I’m trembling. Crying. Begging.
He just smiles. “I told your daddy I’d take care of you, but I haven’t been doing my job very well. Until now.” He slides his palms down my arms, brushing against the sides of my breasts and lingering there for a moment too long. “After all of this is over, you’ll be staying with me.”
I feel like I’m about to pass out again, so I bite on my tongue, hard enough to draw blood. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. “I don’t understand. Where are you taking me?”
“You’re bait.” He brushes my hair out of my face, and I recoil from him. I want him to stop touching me.
His eyes narrow. “Behave yourself.”
“Bait?” I choke out.
“Your boyfriend’s gonna come for you. Save us the trouble of trying to transport a demon like him across six states.”
Nothing makes sense. “I don’t understand. What do you want with Rowan?”
“Lyle, he picked up,” someone calls out from the front of the van. “You want to talk to him?”
Uncle Lyle grins at me, clearly pleased. He reaches over to take the phone from one of the men.
“Took you long enough,” he says to whoever is on the other end of the line.
I scan my surroundings for anything that could help me escape. The van is moving at a steady pace along the highway, the barren landscape flashing by in a blur of muted colors. It’s dark out, but there are enough cars around us to make me think it’s not that late yet.
Shifting my position, I feel something dig into my butt cheek. I slide two fingers into the back pocket of my jeans and remember Sam’s keys.
Grief pangs through me, mixed with a healthy dose of disbelief. I can’t believe he’s dead. He died trying to protect me.
Tears blur my vision.
He knew they were going to kill him. I saw it in his eyes. So why did he use his last seconds to give me his keys? Can I use them as a weapon? I won’t know until I can take a closer look at them.
He told me to keep them on me, so for now, I’ll just have to do that.
“What more evidence?” Uncle Lyle growls into the phone. “You got the photos, didn’t you? The video? That’s the fucking evidence.”
Who is he talking to? He wants to lure Rowan to somewhere. What for?
“Good. We need to discuss compensation.”
I try to make out what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but it’s impossible to hear over the hum of the vehicle.
Uncle Lyle laughs sardonically. “Why do I get the sense you’re not taking this seriously?” A pause. “I see. Well, it’s your lucky week, because this is the real deal, but we’re not bringing him over until I’ve got a guarantee I’ll get paid.” A longer pause this time. “Fine. Good. Like I said, two days. We’ll be there.” He hangs up and slaps his palm against the driver’s shoulder. “We’re good, boys. Told you it would work out in the end. Now focus on the driving. Not a mile above the speed limit. We don’t want any attention on us.” He turns to look at me. “And you’re going to be a good girl and do exactly as I say, understand?”
I nod, even though I understand nothing. Who were they talking to? What do they want with Rowan?
When I shift my position, my bladder whines in protest. “I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper.
Uncle Lyle drags his gaze down my body in a way that makes my blood chill. “Let’s stop in Wilmington, boys. Gotta rest up and eat something before we get back on the road later tonight.” He sits down beside me and pulls me against him. I start shaking again.
“Shhh, Blakey girl,” he whispers, his dry lips pressing against my ear. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He doesn’t let go of me until we come to a stop what feels like fifteen minutes later. Outside the tinted window is a motel with peeling yellow walls. Two women who look like prostitutes loiter by the vending machine.
Something tells me I’m not going to find much help here. I have to try to run.
As soon as we get out of the van, I jerk out of Lyle’s grip and with everything I have, force my half-numb legs to move.
