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“Don’t worry, Ms. Hughes. He won’t hurt you again.”
Dread claws at my belly. He hasn’t hurt me. All that’s hurt so far is my feelings. What’s going on? Why do I feel like I can’t trust Roman and I should trust Cannon?
An off-white work van passes us as we turn onto the highway. I watch the mirrors again. The van goes down the road we just came from.
The dread is like acid eating through my stomach lining. “What’s the van for?”
“It’s not our concern.”
I want to scream. I fantasize about slapping that calm look off his face. I have the urge to call Jacobi. Ask him whether he knew anything about Cannon and his plans. But he’d probably lie.
And that’s when I realize I don’t have my phone. It’s in my tote, and that’s in Cannon’s car. I’m unarmed, and even if I were, I wouldn’t know what to do. I can’t run. I don’t know where I am. I can’t dance my way out of this. I’m beholden to Roman and whatever he says.
All I can do is ride with this stranger who claims he’s rescuing me, but my gut feels like he’s lying. My intuition is screaming at me that I should’ve stayed with Cannon. My head is telling me it wouldn’t have mattered. Staying or going, I’m in danger either way.
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