I bat his hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Tryna lighten the mood, Coach. I’m nervous.”
“I can’t listen to music right now.”
“Okay, well, can we at least play twenty questions?”
He takes my silence to meanyes, firing too many questions at me. I alternate between ignoring him and telling him to, “Shut the fuck up, McKinnon.”
I have to watch the dot on my phone while driving at speeds that will get me pulled over, swerving in and out of traffic.
“Shit,” I mutter out loud.
“He speaks,” McKinnon says from where he’s pouting in the passenger seat.
“I know where they’re going. Finally, a little bit of luck.”
“Y’know, Coach. Some people say I’m a lucky charm. Bet it was because of me. You’re welcome.”
I would argue that, but it’s McKinnon, so it’s probably true. “Hang on.” I step on the gas.
29
RYAN
Clarence keeps looking at me from the driver’s seat as if he thinks I’m going to do something. What does he think I can do, bundled away in this fucking thing? Nice touch. I’m sure Father was the one who told him of my aversion to straitjackets—although is anyone into straitjackets? Never mind, no one answer that. It’s probably someone’s kink.
If it is, go you, but also fuck this thing.
Besides physically constraining me, it holds my mind hostage, too, and I can’t move, doing my best to prevent a panic attack. It’s not even as tight as Father’s men usually buckle it. We were in a hurry and … well, I get the impression Clarence doesn’t have a lot of experience in the abduction arena. He really gives first-day-at-work vibes on that one.
Except I don’t think it counts as abduction when you willingly give yourself over. I borrowed a phone and called Clarence. Stole his number from Tate’s phone while he was out cold. It was a bitch to get the face ID to work, but I managed.
Father wasn’t going to make deals with me, but I knew Clarence would. As soon as I saw the straitjacket, I knew he’d involved my father. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t have much leverage other than myself. I had Clarence transfer all of Tate’sportion of the inheritance and the money he stole from Tate to Gideon, who will then hand it over to Tate.
I took a page out of my husband’s book and used the fact that Gideon would feel like he owed me for stalking and lusting after Cooper, my other fucking half-brother. I might not know Cooper or have an attachment, but he looks like Griff, and my brain can’t seem to wrap its head around there being a difference.
When Tate finds out that I recovered the money he’s been after for so long, he’ll be pissed that he wasn’t the one to do it.
And maybe about a few other things, too.
But I’ll be far away by then. I don’t know where. I couldn’t negotiate the same deal Tate had. My guess is it’s back to Father’s conditioning camp until they can figure out how to sever Tate’s and my marriage, and I can marry Kline.
I won’t be lucky enough to enjoy conditioning at home this time, though. He’ll probably send me somewhere remote where no one, not even Tate, can find me.
My heart threatens to crack.
Can’t think about that right now.
But no matter how much I push the thoughts away, my body refuses to relent. It’s wrung out, insides like they’ve been twisted until they tore, plagued with the exhaustion you get from emotional fatigue. It has me on edge, gut rot churning my stomach, and an ache for Tate so bad I want to die.
Maybe I will.
So, no. I’m not going to do shit. Clarence can stop fucking looking at me.
“Is it working?” I ask.
“Is what working?” he snaps.
