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Moving on to the next part of my plan, I use the back of my hand to pat my forehead. Then I make a big show of fanning myself, even moving closer to the window so I can press my head against it. Even though it’s September, the days are still hot, and today is even warmer than usual.
“Do you have any tissues or something?” I ask Gunner sweetly.
With no windows in the rooms I’m allowed in, I’ve had no way of knowing the weather. If it’d been raining, it could still work, but if it was windy and overcast, I’d have no reason to ask for tissues.
Gunner walks to the front of the bus and talks to Noose before returning. “No,” he answers gruffly.
I send a silent thank you to the powers that be for the reprieve. Now it won’t look out of place when I excuse myself to use the bathroom. I can claim I need cooling down.
“It’s okay,” I say. My eagerness makes the words come out in a rush. “I’ll just ask Chris for some. Don’t want to ruin my makeup.” I gesture to my face.
Gunner’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and his face morphs into a mask of anger. Several moments pass in an agonizing silence before I realize my mistake. By calling him by his name instead of just referring to him as Leslie’s trainer, I’ve made it seem more personal—intimate.
“I think that’s his name,” I muse while doing my best to appear aloof. “Maybe it was something else. No, I think Chris is right. I wonder if that’s his actual name or if it’s short for Christopher or possibly Christian.”
In my attempt to cover up my mistake, I’m turning into a rambling lunatic with a heavy bout of verbal diarrhea.
Noose chooses that moment to shout for Gunner. “Yo. The last car just left, so we should be alone now.”
My heart thunders in my ears, and my blood feels like it’s boiling while I wait for Gunner to say something—anything. I need his reaction to know how badly I fucked up. When he just shakes his head and hauls me toward the door, I breathe a sigh of relief since it seems I didn’t completely ruin my chance at freedom.
Noose parked the bus so it’s hidden among the trees lining Chris’ property. If we’d been in a normal car, he wouldn’t have been able to see the parking lot. But thanks to the height on the vehicle, he could watch them without being seen—even in a yellow fucking bus.
Gunner takes my hand as we walk toward the stables. I hate the way his hand feels in mine, but shoot him a forced grin anyway.
I’m so close to being free it’s all I can think about. Once I give Chris the note I’ve yet to write, I know it’s just a matter of time. I’ve already prepared myself to do anything it takes for us not to make it back to the hellhole Gunner calls home.
Even if I have to… to touch him, I’ll do it.
I spot Chris as soon as we make it to the enclosure Leslie’s preferred horse grazes on. “Chris,” I shout and wave at him.
He turns his head in our direction, doing a double take as he sees us. It’s probably more because of Gunner than me. Instead of dressing down and being incognito, he’s wearinghis Reaper cut, proudly displaying his VP badge as he puffs his chest out.
It doesn’t matter, though. Gunner isn’t really the type you can easily overlook. Not with his bulking frame, long hair that’s pulled into a man-bun, and long beard. If that isn’t enough to make people turn their heads, he’s completed it by sleeking his usually bushy beard into a beard-ring with the Reapers’ logo on it.
“Zoe,” Chris asks as we get close enough to make shouting unnecessary. “Is that really you?”
“It is,” I confirm, smiling at him.
When he takes a step toward me, Gunner growls menacingly. “Keep your distance.”
Chris looks bewildered between me and Gunner, and I can’t say I blame him. He’s probably wondering who the hell I’m with, and… nope, definitely not wondering anymore. I see the exact moment he notices the Reapers’ logo. It’s when all color drains from his face.
“S-Sorry,” he mumbles. “What brings you by?”
Gunner rolls his eyes. “You have something that belongs to my Old Lady.”
Though hearing him call me that makes me want to throw up, I keep a smile plastered on my face. Then I giggle girlishly, as though I liked hearing it. “Oh, you,” I laugh good-naturedly. “I haven’t quite earned that yet.”
Every time I have to betray my true feelings to play Gunner at his own game, I feel dirty—vile, even. Hearing him call me that is one of the worst things he’s said, and I hope I never have to hear it again.
I keep reminding myself that before the day is over, I’ll be free. That’s the only thing that’ll get me through putting up with him.
“Oh, yes. I wondered when you would come for it,” Chris says. “Let me just go get it—”
Gunner interrupts him. “We’ll come with you.”
Chris pales and I wish I could say something—anything—to make him at ease. But how can I when I don’t know what Gunner’sthinking.
