Page 175 of Property of Bob

Then Anchor asked the question I’d been wondering since Lost walked into the clubhouse. “Why come here?”

Wade looked at me. “To find out what she’s going to do.”

I frowned. “About what?”

His laugh was short and humorless. “The money, Ramona.” There it was.

“You drove all the way from Iowa because you’re worried I’m going to report you?”

“Yes.”

“You could’ve called.”

“You changed your number.”

I blinked. Right, I had.

“And I didn’t know where you went.”

“So how did you find me?”

“I went back through the campground computer.”

My eyebrows shot up.

Wade hurried to explain.

“You’d looked up the driving route. Skull Island. It was in the browser history.”

“Well, that’s creepy,” I muttered.

“I know.”

Bob’s hand settled against my back.

Wade noticed.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

I stared at him. “You did a spectacularly shitty job of just that.”

“I know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I know!” His voice rose.

Bob moved before I could blink.

One second he was beside me, the next he was in front of me.

Wade immediately lifted his hands. “I’m not yelling at her.”

“Sounded like it,” Bob growled.

“Bob,” Anchor called.

He didn’t move.