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It almost hurts hearing him talk to me like that, but it also sparks something in my chest. I can’t afford to be hurt right now. I have to think straight. “He’s not satisfied that you won the auction.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try like hell to keep you away from him. That’s what I’m going to do.” He glances my way, scowling. “What? Did you think I was going to take you to him?”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He doesn’t reply, muttering to himself instead. I can’t understand what he’s saying, though it seems like he’s trying to devise a plan. I’ve never felt so useless in my whole life. I’m the reason all this is happening, and now he’s freaking out, and I can’t do anything about it.
It takes another few minutes for me to realize we’re not going back to his house. “Where are you taking me?”
“We have to go somewhere else, at least for a little while. Until I get a handle on this.”
“And he knows where you live.”
“If he doesn’t yet, he’ll find out. Just like he found out where you live.” That’s true. I never provided an address.
“But who is he, really? This guy. You said he’s dangerous.”
“He’s a member of the Sanders family, big into crime and shit. He’s fucking insane.”
“No kidding,” I whisper, shivering. If he hadn’t taken me home with him, this psycho would have found me already.
“I should’ve fucking known.” He slams his palm against the steering wheel hard enough to make me jump and yelp in surprise. “Sorry. The whole point here is not to upset you any further.”
“I can handle it.” Though honestly, I’m not sure I can. I have a mafia prince after me. “But I hate to see you going through it.”
“That’s my decision. I made it last night when I saw you on the auction block.” We stop at a red light, and he turns to me, looking me straight in the eye. “He is not going to lay a hand on you.” The intensity in his stare takes my breath away. I can only nod, which is lame, but words fail me. I don’t even know what I would say if I could speak. He starts driving, and I’m too enthralled to care where we’re going. After a short while, he pulls off on an exit, where a bright blue Walmart sign hangs.
“What size are you?” he asks as he parks the car.
“What?”
“Your clothing size. Shirts, pants, shoes.”
“Can’t I go in with you?”
He looks around, his head swinging back and forth. I sense his indecision. “Now that you mention it, I don’t want to leave you alone out here. Come on. Let’s make it quick, though.” I follow him into the store, unable to shake the sense of having eyes on me. Is he being overly paranoid? I wish I could say. But he knows this family better than I do.
How did I end up here? I thought I was doing the right thing, the only thing. It might end up ruining my life—or ending it.
At his instruction, I pick up several pairs of pants, shirts, shoes, socks, and underwear. All the essentials. Toiletries, too. He does the same, and soon, we’ve filled a cart. I can’t help but think of us as a couple of outlaws as we carry everything out to the car.
Once we’re inside, he checks his phone. “The transfer went through, so that’s good news. You should have the money in your account soon.” I almost forgot about that while we were hurriedly preparing for… what? I’m not sure exactly. Hiding out somewhere? For how long? I know better than to ask since I doubt he could give me an answer.
We ride around a while, and his choice of directions feels random at times. Like he’s trying to make sure we’re not being followed. He must eventually feel safe since we pull into the parking lot of a motel around a half-hour from town. It’s not exactly a happy-looking place, but there’s a fresh paint job, and the parking lot looks like it was recently paved. It gives me hope.
I wish I had thought to change at the store because the way the woman at the front desk looks at me—or rather, avoids looking at me—makes me self-conscious. I probably look like a hooker, which I guess I sort of am, but that’s not why we’re here. I’m not going to go out of my way to convince her, though, since it’s none of her business anyway. She gives us the key to a room, and I’m glad to be away from her. Either he didn’t notice the way she judged us or he didn’t care.
The room looks clean and doesn’t smell bad, which is about as much as I can hope for, I guess. He unloads the bags from the car, and while I wish I could wash some of the clothes before I put them on, I can’t be choosy right now. Besides, I feel a lot more comfortable in leggings and a sweatshirt than I did in that dress.
He closes the curtains, then peers out at the parking lot from between them. “Do you think he followed us?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I can’t sit here in silence, either. And I want to know what he’s thinking.
“I’m trying to make sure he didn’t.” He runs a hand through his sandy hair, and it reminds me of how just a couple of hours ago, his head was between my legs. I wish we could go back to that. I wish we had never left his house.
Of course, the fact that we’re in a motel room with a single king-size bed makes me wonder if we’ll do that again. But he’s hardly in the mood, obviously. I don’t know if I am, either. Knowing that a maniac was in my apartment leaves me feeling violated and shaky. He touched all my clothes, my underwear, and everything. Now I know the first thing I’ll do once that money hits my account. I need to replace all of it.
If I get out of this in one piece. I hate that I even had to think that, but I need to be realistic. Professor Wolff isn’t a criminal. He’s not one of these mafia guys who knows his way around a gun or whatever. He’s gotten us this far, but how much can he possibly protect me?
