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“You have no idea what I was going to do.” And he didn’t. I wasn’t going to murder Morris, even if that’s what it looked like. I was just going to scare him. I wanted him to know, with no uncertainty, that he hadn’t ruined me.
Law reached for me again. I tried to maneuver away but he was too quick. He clasped a hand around my arm and yanked my gun out of the other. He dragged me back out of the alley and to a black Range Rover. I struggled the entire way, but it was useless, like fighting against a tornado.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hoping my fear wasn’t evident.
“We’re going back to my place,” Law grunted, not even bothering to turn back to me.
“Like hell we are!” Ignoring me, Law opened up the passenger door and pushed me inside.
“This is fucking kidnapping!” I screamed as Law shoved me inside. As I tried to open the door, Law sat inside and locked them.
“Look, Nami, I’m not trying to kidnap you.” Law’s tenor was smooth and low, like he was explaining why our dinner plans had changed and not why he was fucking kidnapping me. “I just want to talk.”
“So talk,” I exclaimed. “Don’t kidnap me.”
Law started the car and said, “I know that tattoo on your body isn’t just art.”
“You don’t know anything.” Absently I looked at the tattoo that snaked across my arm. It was one of many I’d had done during the media circus after my rape. I had birds on my collarbone and a tree on my abdomen, but the one on my arm was by far the most significant. It was a snake shedding its skin because the scales had caught fire. I was inspired by a phoenix. With phoenixes, no matter how many times they burst into ashes, they are always reborn more beautiful. I chose a snake instead of a phoenix because it felt apropos. You know, because of the r
eptile in a suit currently hijacking my life.
I needed to feel some kind of control. Inking my purpose gave me that control. Law was right, it wasn’t just art. It was my coat of arms, my purpose, and my drive. It reminded me every day what I had to do.
Law pulled out of the restaurant, still cool as a cucumber. I eyed my car and a brief thought entered my mind that it was the second time Law had driven me away from my car.
“You’re going to drive me back here,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“You’re driving me back here,” I repeated, louder. “I’m not taking a bus all the way back to fucking West Valley.” The last time he’d driven me home I’d had to bus it back to my car, but at least I’d been in the same city. This time it would take at least two hours to bus it back—assuming Law’s plans for me didn’t include murder.
“Fair enough,” Law replied. Feeling a little bit better about the situation, I unfolded my arms and regarded Law.
“You could have just asked me to come with you instead of, you know, dragging me across the lot and throwing me inside like a sack of potatoes.”
Law eyed me from his peripheral. “You would have come if I’d asked nicely?”
“Yes,” I lied. Of course I wouldn’t have come. I would have laughed in his face and driven away. Still, I didn’t appreciate being thrown in cars like cargo.
“You’re such a liar,” Law laughed.
“Where are we going?” I growled.
“I told you. My place.”
“No, no, no.” I shook my head, feeling cold all over. Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead and palms and my breathing sped up. I knew what was happening: I was afraid. I hadn’t been to a stranger’s house, let alone a male stranger’s house, since being raped.
“Nami?” Law glanced at me sideways. I felt completely vulnerable. Law had taken my gun, he’d shoved me in his car, and now he was taking me to his house. For a moment I had felt…well, not safe with him, but not completely on edge, and that naivety made me want to punch myself.
“Nami? What’s going on inside your head?” I shot him a vicious glare. The minute he pulled the car over I was getting out and running. As if he knew what I was thinking, Law pulled the car over. On the freeway. In the middle of traffic.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, glancing around at the various cars honking and flipping us off.
“What are you thinking?” Law pressed. “You went from hot to cold.”
“I was never hot,” I spat.
“Fine,” Law conceded. “You went from lukewarm to icy.”
