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Happily?
I want to puke.
He knows nothing about how it feels to worry all the time about all the monsters you’ve been warned about.
Rolling my eyes, I look behind him at the expansive park. We’re standing in the middle of the shoreline, sand that is most likely trucked in squishing up the sides of my Converse, but that’s not what matters.
What matters is how far I can run away from him. And would he be fast enough to catch me?
In the end, I’m still here against my will. And although there’s not a soul in sight, I have just a small chance of escaping.
Maybe if I play this right.
"My dad owned a security firm—”
"I said about you," he interrupts.
Holding his stare, I refuse to give ground. "If you'd let me finish, I'll enlighten you how that was about me."
I have to get out of this somehow. Gain his trust in some way.
"Can we sit down?" I ask, hoping he'll fall for the act. "It's been a really long day and my legs are tired. My back hurts." I sigh. "I'm exhausted."
Hitching his thumb over his shoulder toward the car, he answers, "Yeah, sure. We can get back in the car. I can turn—”
"I meant right here. In the sand by the lake. It's nice here."
Shane glances between his car and me, confusion pulling at the skin between his eyes. "But you're cold. I can see you shivering."
Smiling politely, I run my hands over the prickled skin of my arms.
He's not wrong.
It is cold.
But he forgot one thing about adrenaline when he was giving me his speech earlier.
When it begins trickling in your veins and it continues building until you're practically doused in it, many things happen when you have no way of burning it off.
You cry.
You grind your teeth.
You feel sick to your stomach.
Or you shake.
I’m not shivering from the cold, but he doesn’t need to know that. I’m shaking because I realize this might be my last chance to escape.
My adrenal gland is leaking like a sieve.
“I don’t mind the cold. I just don’t want to get back in your car again so soon. That ride scared the hell out of me.”
His brows tug together more as he studies me.
“Okaaay.” Suspicion draws out the word, but then he plops down in the sand, crosses his legs out in front of him and leans back on his elbows.
“I’m sitting. Tell me the rest.”
