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The warehouse is eerily silent. A part of me wants to check on Camille, but she can handle herself. I look down to where the ground is muddy from last night’s rain and see no telling footprints but ours, and we’re secluded enough that no one would’ve made it here without a car or some mode of transportation.
Then why do my instincts scream at me to go?
Why do I want to toss my body over Cosette’s and protect her from whatever or whoever would threaten her safety and the safety of our unborn baby?
I trust her. I know I do.
What is it that I don’t trust?
No one’s here. Still, I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition quickly. I want to get the hell out of here.
“I was telling you about my abduction,” I continue, once our doors are shut and locked.
“Everything okay?” Cosette asks.
“I think so.” I still can’t shake that feeling. “Why?”
“You look guarded. I saw you draw your weapon.”
“It feels like someone’s watching us.”
She’s quiet as I peel down the road, dust kicking up behind us. A part of me wants to take her to America, to a place that’s safe and away from all of this until it all blows over. The other part of me wants to arm myself to the teeth and start picking off would-be enemies one by one until there’s no one left to threaten us.
Neither is an option.
“Do you feel like that often?” Cosette asks. “Like someone’s watching you?”
I sigh. “I do.”
Anyone who’s looked down the barrel of a sniper’s rifle with the intent to kill as many times as I have develops that skill. Once you’ve been the predator enough times, you begin to imagine there’s a larger predator with even bigger teeth threatening your survival.
“What are you thinking?” I ask Cosette. She seems pensive and troubled.
“I liked that your mother was so excited. She’ll be an awesome grandmother.”
“Yes.”
“I’m happy I was able to make peace with Savannah. I like her a lot.”
“I agree.”
“And Mario seems pleasant enough, but Sergio… I don’t know about him.”
“He’s dangerous as fuck. I don’t want you near him unless you’re with me.”
She nods. I know Sergio Montavio and I know I don’t want her anywhere near him.
“Those kids were adorable.”
“Mmm.”
My responses are getting shorter because I feel like she’s leading up to something and I want her to get to it. She looks out the window at the passing hills and trees studded with vibrant green leaves. I think about what I’ll do with her when we’re alone later. How beautiful she was when we made love this morning, and how gorgeous she will be as her body accommodates our growing child.
I reach for her hand. She doesn’t take it at first, and I wonder why.
“I don’t know,” she says softly. “You guys are all so… charming and suave. You turn the heads of every woman you pass.”
“Eh,” I say with a shrug. “They know we’re filthy rich.”
