Page 154 of Finding Noah

I cleared my throat and composed myself before adding, “And listen, man. You gave me your word once, and I trusted it. Now, I'm asking you to trust me. I'm not gonna go looking for answers. You and your buddies are safe with me. This … all of this … it ends today. But, holy shit, I'm gonna be grateful for you forever. I just needed you to know that. I’m so … so fucking grateful.”

A moment went by before a firm but kind hand landed against my shoulder, offering a squeeze.

“Enjoy your life, Detective. And you are far from nobody.”

He surprised me by speaking, using that low, gruff Batman voice again. I opened my mouth to respond when that hand left my shoulder, and I listened as his heavy footsteps disappeared somewhere behind me just as another set approached.

“All righty. Let's get you the fuck outta here,” a new voice said before shoving a sack over my head.

The breath in my lungs stuttered as I uttered, “What the hell?”

“Just a little added security there, friend,” he said, laying a hand against the back of my neck and urging me forward. “Move.”

“I take it, you're my chauffeur,” I said hesitantly, doing as he’d demanded.

He huffed a laugh, deep and rattly, like he'd spent the better part of his life smoking. “I heard about your little pirate nicknames,” he replied. “Don't you go giving me one though.”

“Afraid I'll get attached?”

A door swung open ahead of me, and for the first time in over a week, fresh air kissed my skin. Overwhelming emotion crashed against my chest, and I gasped, only to quickly fight against a rush of embarrassment as my eyes welled up with hot, stinging tears.

“Nah,” the driver said. “More afraid I'd have to kill ya. Now, watch your step, Detective. Got a few stairs coming up, and I'd hate to see you break your neck.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

FIVE HUNDRED

“Out.”

Before I could make a move on my own, my arm was grabbed and pulled, urging me out of the security of the vehicle.

As it turned out, my driver's bedside manner was about as hospitable as the man in black. But the man behind the wheel had a taste for grunge and alternative music, and though I was uncomfortable with my head covered and hands cuffed behind my back—overkill, if you asked me—at least the drive had been filled with good tunes.

“Where am I?” I asked, stepping out onto firm ground.

“I'm not answerin' your questions, so don't fuckin' ask them,” he replied in a gravelly, muffled tone. “Turn around.”

Now what? I sighed and did as I had been told, turning on the spot.

My brow furrowed beneath the shroud of the hood over my head as I took in the sounds of my surroundings. Engines revved in the near distance, and horns honked.

Civilization.

“What time is it?” I asked despite his insistence that I keep my inquiries at bay.

His gloved hand grabbed my wrist and wrenched my arms into position roughly. But he answered, “Evening. Little after six. Now, shut the fuck up.”

Huh. We must've been somewhere secluded, far enough away from the general population, for him to feel at all comfortable having a hooded, handcuffed man standing out in the open.

My wrists were jostled as, to my relief, the cuffs were unlocked. Then something was stuffed into the pocket of the pants I was wearing.

“Here's what's gonna happen now,” he said. “You're gonna stand here and count to five hundred while I drive away. If you peek, I'll know, and it's lights out for you—got it?”

I swallowed and nodded hesitantly. “Got it.”

“Don't fuck it up. Five hundred.”

“Five hundred,” I repeated.