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“Where are we going?” Clara asks for the fifth time. I can now officially measure the walk from the solarium to the garage by how many times this woman can ask me the same question—and in how many times I can give the same damn answer.
“Out.” I open the door to the Mustang. “Now, get in the car.”
I don’t have the patience to spell out our itinerary when all we need is for her to plunk her ass into the Mustang. As in, the same Mustang she tried to steal from me. The look on her face is priceless.
At least I am nice enough to open the door for her… and slam it shut after she huffs and slides in.
I’d usually have an entourage of at least one or two other vehicles filled withvorsto flank us in case of emergencies. But where we’re going doesn’t look too favorably on mini-militaries rolling up to their gates. It’s a risk, but one worth taking.
Clara’s knee bounces nervously as we pull away from the compound into the open desert. The farther we drive, the faster it bounces—until my sanity makes me wrap my hand over her thigh to calm her down.
Big mistake.
Now, neither one of us is “calmed down.”
I told her to wear something casual, but I wasn’t as specific as I should have been. The light linen sundress is plain, but it slides over her skin a little too easily. One move of my fingers bares her skin to my touch and I feel her suck in a breath.
So. Fucking. Tempted.
We have about an hour until we’ll arrive at our destination. An hour is enough to work her sweet pussy into a hot, wet frenzy… But I’ll only manage to work myself into a hard, aching mass of frustration if I indulge.
And this trip is for business, not pleasure.
I manage to keep my fingers away from the siren song between her legs, but I do keep them on her. I tell myself it’s so her nervous tension doesn’t drive me insane and distract me from driving. I tell myself the squeeze I give her thigh is a silent expression of power and authority.
I don’t know how to explain away my thumb stroking her soft skin.
“I’m sorry… for earlier.” Clara’s gentle voice suddenly breaks through the silence. She lays her head back against the headrest as she looks at me. “For freaking out like that.”
I almost tell her that it’s okay, I get it. Her kid was missing. I’d tear the place up and go on a manhunt, too. But then I remember that I’m supposed to be pissed she tried to steal my car and run off, so I just grunt and nod once. I can’t let her start thinking I’m negotiable, because I’m not.
Too many people mistake “reasonable” with “negotiable.”
“Thank you. For taking care of Willow.”
Her hand slowly rests on top of mine. And for one swift moment, I almost turn mine over to lace our fingers together.
What the fuck isthatabout?
I don’t hold hands. I keep my distance from the weaker sex. Women are toxic creatures who cause nothing but pain and torment to anyone they latch onto. I should have learned from my mother. Ididlearn—after a while, at least. There was once a part of me that might’ve believed in shit like love.
That part died years ago.
At least, I thought it did.
I can’t entertain the faintest whisper of affection when it comes to Clara. That would be the worst betrayal of them all, and against my own flesh and blood, no less.Hey, Tolya. How’s prison? Meet my new girlfriend, Clara. You remember her, right? She’s the one who put you here.
But I also can’t explain why, when she slowly pulls her hand away from me after a long, pensive silence, I quickly grab it back. Something instinctively reacts to her pulling away, in more ways than one, and I won’t have it.
She’s mine. Whatever the fuck this is, she’smine. She doesn’t get to pull away from me. Not without a reminder of exactly where she belongs.
My hand tightens around hers when she sees the sign up ahead—and nearly tries to yank away from me.
“Demy—”
I hear the panic in her voice. But I clench my jaw and keep driving toward the dark gray stretch of concrete and barbed wire slowly forming in the distance.
High Desert State Prison.
