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He eyes the bag. Looks back at me, a dark brow raised in the air. His voice is low, dangerous. “You think that thing is going to keep you safe from me?”
“Um...” My words dry up, tasting like the time I thought Mary’s big kitchen bowl was full of cookie dough, but it was breadcrumbs I stuffed into my mouth.
My intention when putting it there was to get some space from him.
He’s just so—big.
Overwhelming.
“What was the gunshot all about?” I ask, changing the subject.
He eyes my seat belt. “Buckle up. It’s late. We need to get back.”
“Unbelievable!” I want to roll my eyes. “Someone could have been shot and you’re worried about my seat belt?”
He stares, waiting.
“Fine.” I buckle up. When the metal latch clicks into place, I look over at him. “Happy?”
“No.” He presses the button, starting the engine. “Do I look happy?”
Instead of inspecting his stern face, I stare out the window, silent. I’m not happy but he’s not too concerned about that, is he? I know what I heard.
I want answers.
We ride in silence and finally make it back to the right-hand turn that will take us to back to the Hamlet and the long gravel road that leads to one of the rear service gates. Finally, I’m ready to speak. “Can you just drop me at home, please?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t.”
He passes the turn for the road that would take us to the Hamlet. I glance over my shoulder, watching it go by. I know better than to correct him. He’s not the kind of man who would miss a turn.
Where is he taking me?
eleven
Savage
We’re on the highway that leads to the city when she finally works up enough courage to ask, “And where are we going, exactly?”
“Thought you’d never ask. It’s late and with the drama on the road, security and I agreed it’d be better if I take you back to the Village.”
“You mean safer?” she asks.
I don’t say anything.
She presses. “What were the gunshots all about? Do they have something to do with this detour?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, keeping it vague. “Everyone is safe. Including you.”
“It’s so late everyone will be sleeping, and half the aunties are back at the Hamlet, spending the night in guest cabins after my party.” Her voice gets quiet. “Which seems like days ago. Anyway, where will I stay?”
After what she pulled? Running off into the woods alone, no phone? I’m not letting her out of my sight.
My voice goes all father-lecture-like. “You’ll be staying with me at my house.”
“Oh really?” she says.
I keep my eyes on the road, but I can feel her eyes on me. “What?”
