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“So you’re not rescuing me. You’re hiding me.”
“Both.”
“Bodyguards aren’t supposed to be the bad guys, Samuel.”
His entire body stills. It’s barely noticeable. A brief pause before he shifts gears. A tightening across his shoulders.
“What?”
“My father told me what happened.”
He gives me another sharp glance. “What did he tell you?”
“That you stole from him.”
Confusion crosses his face—Legitimate confusion. The road is rough and the truck is moving too fast, but I don’t mistake what I see. Samuel looks as if I’ve started speaking another language.
“Stole what?”
“Money. Equipment. I don’t know all the details.”
His brow furrows. “Doug said that?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.”
“I don’t.”
“You left right after he confronted you.”
“No.”
The single word comes out harsher than anything he’s said so far.
“You ran away to the mountains.”
“I left for another reason.”
“Then why would my father lie?”
Samuel looks away. That hurts more than it should.
He has no answer because I’m right. Dad has never lied to me. He can be overprotective, intense, and maddeningly secretive about his work, but he wouldn’t invent a story about the man he once called his brother.
“I didn’t steal from him,” Samuel says.
“I don’t believe you.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel.
I expect him to argue. To raise his voice. To give me proof.
Instead, he becomes quiet again.
“Of course,” I mutter. “That’s all you have to say.”
“You’ve decided what you’re going to believe. My mission is to keep you safe. Not to change your mind.”
“Because I know my father.”
