I try my best not to show how freaked out and scared I feel. It’s a razor’s edge I’m skating along as I scoot across the leather and position myself against the opposite door and as far away from Drake as possible. I know myself and falling under his spell is a distinct possibility. I can’t let that happen. Not again.
I glance over my shoulder to find the back of the SUV filled with something that looks like a tarp, but in the darkness, I can’t be certain. It could be grocery bags, too. But that’s just my mind trying to calm my rattled nerves with mundane explanations.
But I’m putting two and two together here and while my mental math isn’t always spot on, mobsters plus guns equal bodies, so I’m going with that being a big wad of plastic.
I let out a huff of frustration. “So all the kissing and protecting back in Sylan’s office was a game to get what you wanted? Play with the enemy's daughter for a while for kicks and giggles? Then off her once the father is taken care of?” I ask pointedly, aiming my gaze at the back of the SUV.
His eyes slowly trail over my mustard uniform and his grin turns hungry then shifts to amused. “Clearly,” he grunts and I nearly faint on the spot.
They are going to kill me because their friend died. Wrap me up and dump me in some landfill. My mind races with all the reasons they would want me dead and come up with more than one. “So, um, my father didn’t pay his debt before you whacked him and now you’re back for me? You think he left me anything? Not hardly. He didn’t even want to give me his name from the stories Mom told.” I shift in my seat. “You know, kind of surprised it took you six months to find him and me. Speaking of, how did you find me?”
“We always knew where you were, Katriona. Before you let that pretty mind of yours run off with ideas of us whacking you, God, such a cliché, take a breather. If we wanted you dead, we wouldn’t have sent protection to guard you every hour of every day. And the last I saw of you, you were screaming out scared for Grey’s life. And kissing him.”
I remember all too clearly. “Stop calling me that. Only my mother called me Katriona.”
I catch a twitch of his upper lip in the street lights as we speed off in what direction I have no idea. I’m too busy keeping an eye on the guy in the front seat and how his hand clamps down on something inside his trench coat.