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But she doesn’t call him back. And after she sends a text, I glance over and see her turning her phone off.
What the hell?
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel.
I really felt like I had a good idea of who Valentine was, but her reaction to all of this has me second-guessing some things.
Deciding we could both use a little air, I flip on my blinker and move across the scattered traffic to take the next exit. The car behind us follows.
Val doesn’t say anything as I take a series of turns toward a large, well-lit gas station, but that’s not a surprise.
I pull up in front of an open pump and turn off the vehicle.
Val holds her phone out toward me.
“You want me to hold that for you?” I ask.
For the first time since standing in King’s entryway, Valentine raises her eyes to meet mine. They’re red rimmed and dull and have me gritting my teeth.
She looks between me and the phone still in her hand, then slowly lowers it. “You aren’t going to take it from me?”
I turn in my seat to look at her better. “I’m not taking away your phone.”
“Oh.” She sounds confused, then looks out the windshield. “Can I use the bathroom?”
What?
“Yeah, Valentine. You can use the bathroom.” My confusion matches her own. “You’re not a prisoner.”
She sets the phone back on her lap. “Can I go home, then?”
There it is.
I shake my head. “You have a new home now.”
“But I don’t want to go with you anymore.”
Her words shouldn’t sting. Obviously, she doesn’t want to go with me anymore. I can’t blame her. But I still don’t like to hear it.
“That’s too bad, Shorty.” I purposefully use one of my nicknames for her just to piss her off. “You already emailed your boss and told him you were moving to Chicago. It probably wouldn’t look good if you changed your mind on such a big decision twenty-four hours later.”
Anger blooms in her cheeks, and it’s so much better than the despair.
“I have my own income,” she argues. “I can get my own place. I won’t even tell King. You can still keep your preciousdeal.”
“That’s not how this works.”
Seeing one of my men at the back of my SUV, I hit the button under the steering wheel to unlock the little door over the gas tank.
The click is audible, and Val’s eyes dart to the side mirror.
She’s fascinating to watch as her eyes narrow while she takes in the details.
When she leans forward to get a better look in the mirror, I know when she sees it.
Val spins around in the seat to look out the back window. “Is that my car?”
“Uh-huh.” I unbuckle myself, then reach over to unbuckle Val.
