We’ve passed a grand total of four cars in six hours, and every time we did, my heart skipped a beat and my muscles tensed.
But I haven’t had another opportunity like the one I missed when Hale pulled over yesterday. So I keep biding my time.
I turn in my seat a little, trying to stretch my stiff muscles, but brush up against Zaid’s body. He doesn’t say or do anything, not even shifting to give me more space, and I feel a flame of awareness spike through me when I meet his brooding green eyes. I quickly look away, focusing my gaze on the miles of road in front of us.
The best way to protect myself isn’t to put up a fight or cower in fear, I’m learning. Because the true danger isn’t from the four men who surround me—or at least, not at the moment. The most dangerous thing right now is the strange pull I feel toward each one of them. It’s messing with my head.
So the best way to protect myself is to emotionally and mentally withdraw into myself, to ignore my reaction to them and their reaction to me.
To pretend they’re just my captors and have never been anything more.
“You’re going to need to get gas soon,” Ciro says quietly, interrupting my thoughts.
“I’m aware,” Hale replies. He rolls his neck, easing the stiffness out of his shoulders. “We’ll grab something to eat while we’re at it.”
Thank god. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles loudly.
“You hungry, Grace?” Hale glances up at the rearview mirror, his gaze finding mine instantly.
I don’t answer. I haven’t spoken a word to him since our encounter in the woods, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible. There’s nothing I want to say to him, and every time we speak, he gets deeper into my head.
Into my soul.
Into my fucking pants.
Memories of his hand delving down the front of my jeans, of his deft fingers working my body like he fucking owned it, filter through my mind. Heat burns low in my belly, a mixture of latent arousal and deep shame.
It was a mistake. I shake the memories away, wishing the mild ache between my legs would leave with them. I won’t let it happen again.
These men are my captors, no matter our past lives. Just because they’re still attractive doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. They’re my enemies. I screwed up twice, and I promise myself I’m not going to let it happen again.
I’ve lost control over so many things in my life recently. I’m not going to let my body be one of them.
Or my mind, for that matter.
Because at this point, my thoughts are just as dangerous.
I slip back into my state of emotional distance, keeping my gaze trained on the road. The guys briefly debate about how soon to stop and what type of food they want to eat, but I don’t offer any input into the conversation. If I can convince them that I’m closed off and don’t care, maybe they’ll leave me alone.
A few minutes later, the back roads turn to small houses and buildings—a small town, but a town nonetheless.
“Up on the right. There,” Ciro says, pointing out the window.
Hale pulls into a small parking lot near a quaint looking diner and finds a spot to park, turning off the car.
“Ciro, you come with me,” Hale instructs. “Zaid and Lucas, stay here with Grace.”
I immediately want to protest, but I know Hale’s only word is his final word.
Zaid and Lucas seem just about as thrilled as I am at the thought of sitting in the car even longer, but they don’t say anything as Hale slams the door shut, pulling his jacket tight to his body as he and Ciro walk through the cold air and into the diner.
I keep my gaze on the two men as the waitress offers them a menu, clearly flirting with Hale. She taps her fingernails on the bar counter, watching him with bright eyes.
“What the fuck is going on?” Lucas is watching the scene just like I am, and he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “Shit, Miss Blondie clearly needs some action.”
Annoyance burns through me as I clamp my mouth shut, knowing anything I say won’t paint me in a good light. Because for some reason, as I watch Miss Blondie flirt with Hale, something like jealousy cages around my heart, squeezing it.
“Can we walk for a minute?” I ask abruptly. They don’t say anything, so I press my case harder. “We’ve been driving for hours without stopping, and my legs are cramping. It’s the least you could do.”