Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(51)

Sometime around dawn, I wake with a start. Farren’s hand is gone, as is Farren. I sit up quickly, blinking. I’m still in the Ferrari, which is pulled off, askew, in a gully on the side of a desolate stretch of road. There’s not a soul in sight, just wilderness everywhere I glance.

Staring out at the stretch of black asphalt directly in front of me, the bright yellow line in the center blurs in the dim early morning light. The rising sun blankets the vast desert, the distant mountains, and the sparse vegetation.

“Where are we?” I mutter, even though I’m all by myself.

Where is Farren?

For a second, I panic. And then I spot him out in the desert. Farren is a dark silhouette, standing quietly, shoulders squared. He’s staring out at the mountains in the distance as the rising sun turns the peaks from silt brown to blood red.

I don’t know what’s wrong with Farren, but I sense from his tense stance that something is nagging him.

I get out of the car and go to him. My skirt and top billow wildly, stirred by breezes not yet warmed by the sun. Glad that I tied the jean jacket around my waist last night after the car finally warmed up, I loosen the knot at my middle and work the denim fabric up my arms.

Warmed, I continue walking.

But when I reach Farren, he doesn’t acknowledge me. He just continues to stare pensively at the blood-red mountains.

I touch his forearm. “Farren?”

Snapping out of whatever trance he was in, he turns to me. Smiling sadly, he says my name. And then he reaches out and trails his index finger from my cheek to my lips.

I kiss the tip of his finger, but he drops his hand. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

Sighing, he says, “Remember when I told you about the man named Dawson?”

“Yes, the elderly businessman who’s secretly evil.”

“He’s not elderly, Essa,” Farren says, smiling slightly at my mistaken assumption. But his smile fades quickly when he continues. “Dawson is an older man, yes, but never let his age fool you. He’s not to be underestimated.” He pauses. “You are right about one thing, though.”

“What is that?”

“Dawson is absolutely evil.”

I involuntarily shudder, and not from the chill still hanging in the air. “So, what do you need to tell me about him?” I whisper.

“I have to go meet him.”

My chest tightens. “Why?”

“Many reasons,” Farren says cryptically.

“Oh,” I murmur.

He goes on. “Ideally, I’d prefer to meet him alone”—his gaze goes to me—“but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you meet him alone?”

“He knows I’m in New Mexico, Essa. And, unfortunately, he’s been made aware that I’m not alone. He knows you’re traveling with me.”

Okay, this is not good, I think.

“So”—my voice cracks—“you’re taking me with you to meet him.”

After an audible, frustrated exhale, he says, “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think it’s best if I do. You’ll be safer with me than if you waited somewhere alone.”

I know Farren means there’s a chance I’ll be abducted—like Haven was—if he leaves me alone in some motel somewhere.

“Why do we need to meet him?” I press.

Farren runs his hand down his perfect features, always beautiful, but especially so in this early red-dawn light. “Dawson is under the impression I’ve gone rogue. Contrary to what I first believed, he has no idea I’ve been working for the man I told you about. The man named Mr. Barnes.”

“The man who lost his daughter?”

“Yes, that man.” Farren takes a breath, and then continues. “I was so convinced Dawson must have figured out my true motives for infiltrating his organization. I was sure that was why he abducted my sister. But though he did take Haven as retaliation, it was for a different reason. He thinks I rescued those girls in Venezuela so I could sell them in my own trafficking ring. He thinks I stole what he views as his property.”

“Property?” I scrunch up my face. “God, he really is sick.”

“He’s also very dangerous,” Farren says grimly. “But having him believe I’ve gone rogue is the best-case scenario.”

“For who?”

“For everyone involved,” Farren replies, though that tells me nothing.

“So, what do we do?” I ask.

“We meet with Dawson. I let him think I was planning to start my own sex-slave ring.”

I cringe, and Farren reminds me, “It’s just a cover story, Essa.”

“I know. But still…”

Farren ignores my commentary and continues. “I need for him to think I changed my mind. I need him to think that his taking Haven made me reconsider. Let him believe he sent the message not to mess with his business, let him think it was received. He’ll think his plan worked, and he’ll leave Haven alone.” His expression softens as he adds, “It will also ensure that you’ll be safe from here on out, too.”

Farren’s words, though comforting, remind me that my time with him will come to an end, and soon. In response, my heart clenches and a lump forms in my throat. I have all these feelings for Farren. If I just poured my heart out to him here and now, then maybe…