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Chapter Twenty-one
Fucking Jolie.
I didn’t think I’d ever been so furious in my entire life. Even though I’d been cautious and tied her up, a part of me had wanted to be able to trust her. I’d truly hoped I had been able to trust her. And then the very first second we got into the company of other people, she went and pulled a stunt like that.
Shit. She’d hurt my goddamned feelings, and I wasn’t someone who ever even liked having feelings.
I gave her a shove from behind, toward the car. Her head was down, and she went meekly, but my anger made me rough with her. I kept hold of the gun, just in case, and had the car keys in my other hand.
“Here.” I stepped forward and shoved the keys at her. “As I can’t trust you to behave, it looks like you’re driving.”
Tears shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Hayden.”
“Yeah,” I snarled. “You fucking will be.”
Betrayed. That was how I felt. Even though I’d been the one to kidnap her, I felt as though she was the one who’d screwed me over.
She hit the button on the key fob to open the doors. I kept the gun trained on her as I navigated the outside of the car to get in the passenger side. Jolie pulled open the door and climbed behind the wheel.
A tear ran down her nose and dropped off the end and into her lap. I gripped the gun tighter, restraining my instinct to wipe the rest of her tears away.
“You know where you’re going, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Home. I’m going home.”
“Then drive.”
It would be a good three-hour drive until we reached the city. Her childhood home had stood abandoned and unlived in for the past ten years. No one wanted to live in a house that had once belonged to a serial killer—no matter how good the price was.
Jolie drove with both hands on the wheel, her knuckles white. I kept the gun trained on her, praying she wouldn’t make me use it.
The car’s tank was full, and we had no reason to stop along the way. I had no intention of stopping for any reason between now and Jolie’s old house. Even if she told me she needed to take a piss, I wasn’t going to let her out of the car. She could piss where she was sitting. I couldn’t trust her not to do something stupid if I gave her the slightest sniff of freedom.
I hoped the two men I’d locked in the supply closet wouldn’t get out any time soon. I’d taken the paperwork with me, but there was a good chance they’d be able to give the cops a description of my vehicle. The last thing I needed right now was the interference of the police. The next few hours were going to be critical.
Hours passed, and neither of us said a word. The tension inside the vehicle was intense, her hatred for me radiating from her like body heat. Finally, we reached the outskirts of Atlanta, and Jolie navigated the streets toward her childhood home.
We reached her street, and she pulled up outside of the house. She shut off the engine, and I reached across her to yank the keys out of the ignition.
It was late, no one else around, which was a good thing as I climbed out of the car and went around to the driver’s side. I pulled open the door and reached inside and dragged Jolie out by her arm.
I held her against me and twisted to face the house. Then I leaned in and growled against her ear.
“Welcome home, Jolie.”
