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“And he sent me, his own Mata Hari?”
“Stop.” He reaches for me, but I stumble away and start packing my things. “You’re not going fuckin’ anywhere, Princess.”
“The black sheep strikes again,” I mutter. “I’m really bad at the old spying, even send people in to ask about me.”
“Damn it. This is out of hand. Maybe I just let shit get in the way here.”
“You did. Me and I’ll make that better.” I slide my computer into its rarely used carry case. “I’ll go, and you never have to see me again.”
He grabs me and turns me. “Yeah? And your car?”
“You can keep it.”
“And how you gettin’ out of town? Hitching?”
I glare up at him. “If I have to.”
“Princess . . .”
“I don’t ever keep tabs on my father’s jobs. He takes things to make money with minimal effort. That’s when he’s not buying small companies and businesses. But he likes to be out there, as he says, in the real world. But I didn’t know, and until you told me, I wouldn’t have. And for you to think I’d know and not say anything . . . I’m out of here.”
“No, you’re fuckin’ not. Sidney—” He stops as his phone starts to ring. He pulls it from his pocket and listens, then says, “On my way.”
Something cold squeezes my heart. Right now, I might be angry, I might want to run, to never see him again, but that tone makes fear cascade through me.
“Do not leave. Stay here. We’re not done.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I just . . . we’ll talk when I get back.”
“Why can’t we talk now?”
He breathes out. “Because there’s another fire. So, stay here and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
* * *
I should go. I know it, but I don’t. Short of stealing Christine, I don’t have any kind of plan that might work. Time enough to go when my car’s fixed and I vow that’s what I’m going to do.
Leave the moment the part arrives and he fixes it.
But right now, I’m at his place. I have the TV on, tuned to news of the surrounding areas, and I clean.
I clean like I’m Cinderella.
When I finish, I look at the clock in the kitchen. It’s been two hours, but it’s not like fires have any kind of schedule. So, he might still be there or he might be back.
There are people caught up in it, according to the news. It’s where it is that’s causing problems, close to where some people with a baby decided to go and move their campsite to.
Philip is interviewed for about five seconds before he shuts it down.
My heart lurches because the big, handsome man is dirty from the soot and ash, and tired. I don’t see any of the volunteers.
I don’t see my volunteer.
Where’s Mack?
I want to call him. I want to get in Christine and drive out there. But I can’t do either one of them. The first puts him in danger—not that he’d be dumb enough to answer even if the call got through, and the second is all levels of reckless.
So, I sit and wait
* * *
