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I shake his hand and we say our goodbyes in our fake accents, then hop in the cab, headed toward the used car lot. She’s still hanging on my arm, pretending to be my lady. In some alternate universe, I could see it.
There’s fire between us.
If only my soul wasn’t betrothed for eternity.
Before exiting the cab, I put on a cap to hide my hair and face in case anyone is dumb enough to try and follow my tracks. Doubtful. Donny can’t drive that fast. And by now he’s looking for a ghost that no longer exists.
Light returns to Alessia’s eyes when I allow her to pick our next car. When she points to a Volkswagen Beetle, I automatically retract my offer. She begs me to let her pick again, and promises to stop being a jerk about it, so I reluctantly give in. We settle on a slate grey Chevrolet Malibu. Unassuming, easy to paint black. Perfect.
We drive back to the shack, and she gets quiet again. Her mood swings are insane. Fear – that one’s understandable, I guess. Then arousal? She’s almost as sick as I am. Then anger. Why? I don’t know. Then the rest of the day she’s fucking playing house with me. Now this?
“Alessia, what the fuck?”
Chapter 14
Alessia
I still can’t believe it. Arnold Frick. I saw him drive by the junkyard in his copper car. He’s onto Leandro. Or at the very least, is getting closer to the prize. Did he recognize me?
No way. I look completely different from when he knew me. One look in the sun visor mirror reflects a set of vibrant eyes full of blended make-up. Silky hair. Nothing of what I was back in Indiana.
I should be thrilled that I’m going to be freed soon. If anyone can combat this monster of a man, it’s Arnold.
Yeah? Then why couldn’t he keep you safe in witness protection? the thought creeps into my mind.
What’s worse… I had a good time with Leandro today. I like him. And I admit I’m hot for him. This is a fucking nightmare.
“Aright, out, you moody shit, unless you want to huff car paint for the next five hours.” Leandro leans near my side of the window from outside the car, snapping his fingers.
He’s hauling cans of black paint from a rickety shed, having abandoned his leather jacket to unleash his perfectly chiseled arms. The way his ink shines in the cloudy light does terrible things to my insides.
I get out of the car and my stomach may as well be in knots. Should I run back into my den and confess to all the girls that we’re going to be rescued? If the feds opened a case, and Arnold is already this close… it’s inevitable.
No. Thinking back to how half of them act down there, they’d run and tell Leandro in a second. Hell, the thought even crossed my mind once or twice.
Don’t get sucked into his madness. You’re his prisoner, I remind myself. If only my damn body would get the memo.
Once I get to a chair resting five feet away from his outdoor shower, I decide to take a seat and watch him work. He grunts to himself now and again, like how I’d imagine a wolf would. As he sands the car, I realize how careful he is in all of his actions. He’s meticulous in removing the scratches and rust spots. The process takes hours, and honestly, I could watch him for days… if it wasn’t so cold.
“Leandro, I want to go in.”
There’s a brief expression of disappointment that flashes across his face. Did I just offend him? Of course I did. This backyard is literally his home. And after an active day, I’m telling him it’s not hospitable enough for me.
He tosses his rag in a bucket and struts over to me. “Come on, then.”
“N—no, it’s alright. I’ll stay.”
His brow knits. “What’s with you woman, seriously?”
We stare at each other for a long ten seconds, until he scoffs and heads back to his work. Even though my chilled fingertips and toes regret my action, I don’t. There’s something about his presence that makes me want to be around him. He has an aura of danger that’s been dragging me into orbit.
Now that I know my days are numbered here, the prospect of Leandro… is more enticing. He has urges about me? He pictures me? Yeah, maybe it’s because I look like his late wife, and some sick part of him pretends I’m actually her… With everything we talked about on this strange day, I know he’s actively trying to break that line of thought. It comes and goes. There was something in the way he started to look at me during our play-acting that confirmed it for me. I’m honestly kind of flattered, all things considered.
I feel pretty again.
Wanted.
I want him too.
