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“I’m not doing it unless you bring me back to my place so I can get Shiloh,” I tell Jerry as I put my fork down.
Elena made everyone eggs, toast, and bacon for breakfast, and although I won’t admit it, it’s one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. Or maybe I’m just starving.
Jerry considers this, her chin propped on her hands as she watches me from the other end of the table. Ronan sets down his fork roughly, throwing himself back in his seat with a groan.
“Done,” Jerry says simply, and Ronan’s head shoots up, looking at her.
That was easy,I think, trying my best not to throw my hands up in victory.
“We’ll leave right after we finish here,” she tells me as she takes a bite of her particularly burnt toast.
I nod, getting back to work on my own food.
We all eat in awkward silence before the three others start talking about their latest assignments, casting me sideways glances as they make sure what they’re saying in front of me is okay.
“The Agency doesn’t really know the extent of your involvement,” Jerry tells me when I send Ronan a questioning look. “But I trust you understand that if you run your mouth, none of us would hesitate to kill you.”
I gulp, understanding just fine. Of course, she would. From what Ronan told me the previous night, they wouldn’t risk their lives for mine.
When we’re all done, Zach takes the dishes into the kitchen as he and Brandon get to work cleaning up, and Jerry motions for me to follow her. I don’t look back at Ronan as I do, but I can feel his piercing eyes on me.
She wastes no time climbing into her red Challenger and pulling out the door.
It’s the first time I’m seeing the damage I caused in the sunlight, and I wince, realizing that it’s way worse than I thought. The entire gate is a mangled mess, parts of the barbwire fencing on top laid out on the ground.
“You’re lucky a tire didn’t pop,” Jerry mutters as we drive through the mess. She doesn’t say the silent part out loud. I’m lucky thatRonandidn’t have a tire pop. Going at the speed we were going, he would have been toast.
The burnt kind.
Like the slice sheput back in the toasterafter Elena placed it in front of her, attempting toburn it more.What kind of psychopath am I dealing with here?
…says the woman from a family of murderers.
“Thank you,” I say softly as we pull onto the road.
She looks at me, tucking her black hair behind her ear as she reaches for a pack of cigarettes from the center console.
“I’m not doing it for you,” she snaps. “If this is what will get you to actually work with us and stop putting our lives in danger, then so be it.”
I nod, looking out the window. I have a feeling there won’t be much getting through to her. Bonding may not be in the cards for us, and I have to accept that.
But ten minutes into the drive, I get antsy.
“How did you find out about mom and dad?” I ask.
Jerry sticks her hand out the window, letting it sit there as we drive along the rural roads. “Mom visited me once or twice,” she says, her voice not giving anything away as she speeds along the road, swerving a couple of times for small critters that find their way in her path. My stomach stirs, and I pray that I get back without vomiting.
But I’m also surprised. “She did?”
“Yep. Felt guilty. Wanted to see me. Still wasn’t good enough for her to take back, though. Still wasn’t good enough for her to help.”
I sink into my seat, feeling horrible.
“If I had known, I would have—”
“You would have what?” Jerry interrupts, cracking her neck as her black hair falls into her face. “You would have fixed it? You couldn’t even stand up for yourself, Sydney. You wouldn’t have done a fucking thing for me.”
As usual, she’s right. She’s right about it all.
