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“What were you doing at my house?” I managed to ask. My body felt hot and cold at the same time, and I had to wonder if it was from the blood loss. In theory, I hadn’t lost very much blood, but between my hand, my aching jaw, and the reminder that I’d had a knife poised just inches above my jugular less than an hour ago, that was enough to leave me feeling excessively queasy.
“Watching it.”
“Watching it?” I asked. “Seriously?”
Vincent didn’t respond, and I bit back the curse word that threatened to spill forth. “You weren’t there by coincidence,” I said. “Are you a cop or something? Did Preston talk to you?”
“You mean that weasely little campaign manager of yours?”
While the description might fit Preston in the sense that he was short, thin, and had beady eyes and a receding hairline, he was anything but.
“Preston Bell is one of the most respected men in the business. He’s run more successful campaigns-”
I stopped short when I saw Vincent shake his head. “What?”
“That supposed to impress me?” he asked. “That the guy’s good at helping you people spout your bullshit to unsuspecting Americans?”
It was the second time he’d taken a dig at my profession. But as much as I wanted to tell him to fuck off, I was currently at his mercy since we were speeding away from Charleston into the dead of night like a bat out of hell.
In a muscle car that had my jaw vibrating with the powerful engine’s hum.
“Who are you?” I repeated. “And where are we going?”
“My place,” he responded, though from his tone, I suspected he thought he was doing me a favor by even answering the question at all.
What an asshole.
“Stop the car,” I muttered.
He ignored me.
“Stop the goddamn car!”
Still nothing.
It wasn’t until I reached for the door handle that I got a reaction.
A dangerous one.
I’d been bluffing, but Vincent clearly wasn’t because in one swift move, he yanked the steering wheel to the right, sending the car skidding along the shoulder of the highway until it came to a jarring stop, all while his arm came up to slam against my neck, causing my head to jerk backwards.
“Now either you sit there and shut the fuck up, or I will do it for you, do you understand me?”
In my gut, I knew what my answer should have been. But when that part of me that had always kowtowed to others reared its ugly head, I grabbed his arm with both my hands, not caring that I was probably getting blood on him, and said, “Fuck you.”
I didn’t yell it.
Didn’t shed tears with the words.
And I didn’t give a shit if it meant he’d follow through on his threat. I couldn’t remove his arm from my neck; he was just too strong, even with me using both my hands.
I couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness, but I could sense them on me. I gasped for air when his arm suddenly disappeared and his fingers wrapped around my throat. I knew what he wanted.
No way in hell was I giving it to him.
Just like with the guy who’d been about to shoot me, I wasn’t going to beg.
Several long seconds passed, but just as I was on the verge of passing out, Vincent released me. I sagged forward and sucked in some air, and then I reached for the door handle and climbed out of the car. I didn’t even care that my bag was still in the car. I had my phone and that was all I really cared about.
So I just started walking.
“Brody.”
I stopped dead in my tracks at the sound of my brother’s name. There was no traffic on the road around us, and dense forest was creeping in on us from both sides. Moonlight filtering in through the sparse clouds was the only thing lighting the ground in front of me.
I turned around and saw Vincent leaning against the trunk of the car. There wasn’t enough light to make out his face, but I could see his stance. Arms folded, one foot crossed over the other.
Like he didn’t have a care in the world.
He probably didn’t.
“What about Brody?” I asked.
“You want to do something stupid, that’s on you. But your brother is the one who’s going to have to pay for it.”
That had me moving.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! Brody’s safe! I stayed away from him to keep him safe!”
Despite the fact that I was once again in Vincent’s space, he seemed unfazed, and I briefly wondered if the man had ice running through his veins instead of something boringly human like blood.
“I’m talking about the fact that he’ll have to live with your death.”
His simple and calmly spoken statement had me deflating just like that. I took a few steps back because I found that standing too close to him left me feeling wholly unsettled.
