Alone, I reached for the mini flashlight on my keychain, flashing it around the trunk. There was a sigh of relief when I saw the pull that would let me out of the trunk at any point should I need it.
“Who the hell keeps this much Tiffany in their trunk?” I grumbled, pushing a couple of the boxes toward the far end of the trunk to make more room.
Whoever he was, he was rich.
I’d managed to catch the model of the car before I found myself inside of it.
It was a Rolls-Royce Ghost.
Which meant the man had a cool three-hundred grand to drop on a car.
So he was rich-rich.
But why the hell was he at Adams’s place?
And why had he saved me?
Was this just some elaborate scheme to hand me over to the cops?
If it weren’t for the fact that I heard footsteps from, I imagined, the next door security, I would have climbed out and hoofed it.
As it was, I was safest hidden away in the locked trunk of a luxury car.
It was from my cramped position that I heard those same men rush back toward the Adams house a couple minutes before sirens could be heard.
I waited on bated breath for someone to come along and pop the trunk, haul me out, and drag me off to jail.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, my shoulder and hip aching from the cramped position, but it felt like forever until I heard the bleep of the locks, then the opening and closing of the driver’s door.
Then we were moving.
For an entirely too long time.
I mean, I had no idea where this man was taking me. And I was just rolling around in his trunk like he was even remotely trustworthy. But the car never quite slowed for long enough that I felt safe jumping out of it.
“Shit,” I sighed, reaching up to rub my hands down my face. “I really cocked up this one,” I added, trying to pinpoint exactly where it all went wrong.
I mean, I’d planned the whole night down to every minute detail.
Okay.
Not every one of them.
Since I had no idea about the escape tunnel.
But I had my own escape plan.
If that guy hadn’t shown up to drag me with him, I would have gotten away. Or, at least, I was pretty sure I would have gotten away.
And then the world would be a much better place without that scumbag Adams.
Eventually, what felt like at least an hour from when the car purred to life, it idled, then cut off.
My hand reached for my gun, holding it in my hand as the trunk popped.
And there he was again.
I’d barely gotten a chance to look at his actual face, what with him dragging me along with him the whole way.
I’d gotten a glimpse of what seemed like a good-looking man, but seeing him up close and in better light let me know that he wasn’t just good looking.
Oh, no.
He was stupid good-looking.
You know, like when you see a guy in some print ad and he is so good-looking that you’re convinced he must be completely Photoshopped.
Yeah, that was what this guy was.
From his perfectly cut jaw to his great cheekbones, his straight, aristocratic nose, his tall and wide-shouldered build, his brilliant blue eyes and his shiny light brown hair.
Good breeding, that was what this guy had.
“I half expected you to jump out at a light, love,” he said, offering me his hand.
“I was half tempted to do it,” I admitted, avoiding his hand and crawling out myself.
“Do you have a name, doll?” he asked as I rolled my neck to try to ease the crick.
“I do.”
“Are you going to tell me?” he asked as I looked around at the marina he’d parked in.
It was immediately familiar. The pier that went out onto the river. The hospital on the hill overlooking the water. The small restaurant across from it.
“Why did you take me all the way to Navesink Bank?” I asked, tucking my gun away.
“Why not?
“That’s not an answer.”
“And you didn’t answer when I asked your name.”
“Shawn,” I supplied. “And you are?”
“Bellamy,” he said, offering me his hand again.
“I think you’ve held my hand just about enough for one evening,” I said, shaking my head. “Why are we in Navesink Bank?”
“It’s as good a place as any. So, Shawn, why did you kill Brandon Adams?”
“Because he needed killing,” I said, shrugging.
“I can’t argue with that, but I am going to need more information than that. I did save your ass tonight.”
“I was fully capable of saving my own ass.”
“That’s a funny way of saying thank you,” he said, falling into step with me as I started to walk away.
“That’s because I wasn’t saying thank you,” I told him. “Why are you following me?”
“Who says I’m following you? We’re clearly just going in the same direction.”