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“Because the less you know, the safer you are.” I clench my hands into fists until the motion hurts and wakes me up to the reality of the moment. “Trust me, I wish I could tell you. I’m tired of being alone.”
It’s not good enough for him, but despite his frustration, he accepts the answer. “Who were those guys? Cops? FBI?” By the look in his eye, I would guess Rhett knows they weren’t either, but he wants me to confirm it.
“They might as well be, they’re that powerful.” I rake my fingers against my scalp. “They’re private security.”
“And they want you?”
“Me and that trunk.” I glare at it like it’ll help. “More than anything.”
I feel like I’m standing on scales in his mind. He’s weighing the reality of what I’m facing against whether it’s worth it to help me.
“We need to get you inside. Come on.”
As he starts to carry my trunk, I exhale my relief.
For at least one more night, I’m safe.
Rhett
On the way in, I tell her about my experience with Whitlock and his partner. She informs me their names are Randall Whitlock and Joseph Stoll. I count it as a small victory in getting to know what she’s facing. Up until tonight, I figured she had an abusive ex-boyfriend, or maybe she ran away from a wedding or something. Now, I’m thinking it’s a lot more serious.
I leave out the part where Whitlock told me she’s dangerous. I’ll keep that close to my chest. I know it would be in his best interest to turn me against Sunny, but at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that I might be harboring a criminal.
I leave Sunny downstairs in the kitchen with instructions to find us food, and I carry her trunk upstairs. I was hoping the guys would all be asleep, but they’re still up. As soon as they see me, the hollering starts.
“Oh, there’s lover boy!”
“You have a good date?”
“Heard you stole Sunny off for yourself tonight.”
I stop them before they get the wrong idea. “I ran errands. And on that subject, there are about eight bags of groceries that need to get to Ms. Clara, so Silas, Buck, get on out to my truck. The rest of you can help get the grain put away tomorrow.”
Groaning in surround sound tells me I squashed their teasing for now. I’m quick to stash the trunk behind the curtain I hung for Sunny. The dresser I asked Houston to grab from storage is set against the wall. At least a few plans came together today.
I hurry downstairs, feeling urgency to keep track of Sunny. When I come around the corner, she’s not alone, but I have nothing to fear. Cookie sits at the table, talking her ear off as he’s prone to do.
“There he is. Clara’s favorite child.”
I laugh knowing it’s not true. “I think you mean Carl. He’s the baby after all.”
“Oh, you should hear her tonight. Telling anyone within earshot what an amazing son she has, out running her errands after a full day’s work.” Cookie snickers to himself. “Carl looks like he’s strung so tight he’ll snap.”
I try not to beam, knowing I managed to ruffle my younger brother that much. “I had some time to kill, that’s all.”
Sunny has focused on her food, happy to drop out of the conversation for the time being, but I know she’s listening.
“When are you two ever going to bury that hatchet, kid?” Cookie raises his eyebrows to drive the point home, but it’s not that simple.
“Carl seems inclined to bury it in my back from time to time. Does that count?”
Sunny snickers, and it lessens some of the tension from the night we had.
“Not what I had in mind.” Cookie turns to Sunny. “Has this kid told you his story yet? How ol’ Cookie managed to get his life on the right track?”
I poke at the bowl of soup in front of me, partially hating Cookie for bringing all of it up. “Sunny has better things to worry about than my past.”
Cookie shrugs. “But everyone needs a bedtime story, Everett.”
