12
Nicole
Dante escorts me off the premises and into his nearby vehicle. Needless to say, it isn’t his truck.
With a firm grip on my forearm, he opens the door and shoves me inside.
I stumble into the sports car. It smells new and looks clean and shiny from the outside.
Did he buy it today because I stole his truck? Or was this vehicle sitting around untouched because he’s a rich bastard with too much money to his name?
Honestly, I’m terrified of the man. I don’t want to go with him, but there never seems to be a choice. At least not for me.
Dante crouches down and leans into the car. He grabs the seatbelt and reaches across my lap, securing it in place.
“I don’t want anything to happen to my precious cargo,” he says.
“I’m not a piece of luggage,” I snap.
He pulls back and slams the door shut for the passenger side.
Dante hurries around and lets himself in the car. There’s only enough room for the two of us in the car. He must have ridden alone.
“Your men won’t miss you?”
I’m met with silence.
I glance back at the brick building with dozens of vehicles parked out front. My fingers graze over my neck, and I exhale a heavy, jubilant sigh. The collar is gone.
Dante removed the thick leather collar from around my neck and left the device on the booth.
I can finally breathe.
But I’m not free.
At least not yet.
Dante slams on the gas and the vehicle jars forward, tires spinning and kicking up dust and dirt. I don’t have to ask where he’s taking me.
I already suspect that it’s to his home, his private lair. But I don’t know where that is exactly. Somewhere in town, I suspect.
He keeps his hands to himself on the drive.
Every so often, I feel his stern gaze shoot at me. How much more torture will I have to endure because I stole his truck?
The vehicle whips around curves as we travel up the mountain. There’s grass to my right. If I can just roll out of the car, maybe I can escape as long as I don’t plummet down the ditch.
It has to be a better fate.
I yank the handle for the door, and it opens.
Dante thrusts out an arm to grab me and hold me back while he slams on the brakes and lifts the emergency brake.
We come to a hard holt.
We both reach for the buckle.
Dante tries to stop me, but my hands are tiny, and with the door already open, I have an advantage.