Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(22)

“You’ll be safe,” he said. Again.

He’d said it to her when they were in that bed together, and she’d believed him. She believed him then because he could have hurt her a thousand different ways and he hadn’t. Nor had he let the others hurt her. That had been enough then, but now she wasn’t so sure. An uneasy feeling started in the pit of her belly. For all she knew, he was taking her to a grave out in the desert.

She wet her lips. “Where?” she repeated.

He stared straight ahead, not looking at her. “It’s best you don’t know where we’re going.”

Silence so tense it crackled filled the interior of the van. Understanding sank in, followed by dread. “You’re not letting me go,” she whispered, her skin flushing cold.

His hands flexed over the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Same difference, in this case.”

Her chest grew tight, the air sliding thickly past her lips. “You’re a liar. And a criminal.”

His deep voice crawled toward her in the tight space of the van, slithering like a serpent. “I didn’t lie to you. You heard what you wanted to hear. But you’re right. I am a criminal. You shouldn’t forget that.”

For a moment the sight of those strong, broad hands clasping the steering wheel filled her vision. They were all she could see. She’d let those hands touch her. She shuddered with the knowledge, feeling sick. She had made a mistake trusting him.

There was no fear. Only rage growing by the second inside her. Only a desperate need for self-preservation. She surged forward, pushing up off the heels of her shoes. She clawed at his face with her manicured nails. A jarring cry bounced off the inside of the van and she dimly realized it was coming from her.

He cursed, his body banging against the driver-side door. The van swerved wildly, running off the road. He slammed on the brakes. Dirt and gravel roared outside their fishtailing vehicle. She pitched forward, landing on her knees between the bucket seats. Pain radiated up her thighs. The van bumped and bounced before finally coming to a hard stop.

She didn’t wait. She pushed up to her feet and turned, lunging for the side door. Lifting the lock, she slid it open and was out and running over the uneven terrain as though she had a plan. As though she knew where she was going.

She ran like she never had before, strange gasps and funny sounds escaping her that didn’t even sound human. She twisted her neck, searching for a road, hoping to see another car.

But there was nothing. Just the bleak landscape of desert terrain. A horizon that went on forever, and she was lost in it. All alone. With him.

The hard, swift beat of his feet sounded behind her, and she knew he was coming. Hunting her. Her pulse hammered violently, and her panting turned into ragged sobs as she felt him closing in.

Her foot hit a rut and she staggered. She caught herself, stopping just shy of eating dirt, but it cost her. His hand snared her hair, tangling in the long strands.

He gave a yank and she tumbled backward into him with a cry. He turned her over in his arms as they simultaneously hit the ground. Hard. It would have been worse if he had not twisted around in the last second and took the brunt of their fall, leaving her sprawled atop him.

“Let go of me!” She pounded on his chest.

He was indifferent to her blows. The steel bands of his arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed, pushing the air out of her lungs.

“What are you doing?” he growled. “Trying to get us killed?”

“I’m already dead. Aren’t I?” She thrust her face close to his. “Just say it! Tell me the truth for once. For the first time.”

He glared up at her, his green and amber marbled eyes sharp as glass. Their breaths crashed between them, mingling hotly. He shook his head once, slowly from side to side. “The truth is, you’re my prisoner for as long as you need to be.”

She held his gaze, trying to read him. For once, she suspected he was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to let her go until he was good and ready. Keeping her safe, in his mind, did not equate to letting her go. She understood that now.

She should be better at reading between the lines, having lived among people who said one thing and meant another. Or they outright lied. She had been watching her father do it for years.

Grace inhaled thinly, trying to dislodge herself from the top of him, but he held her fast, locked tight against him.

“You good?” he asked.

The question alone infuriated her, which was unusual in itself. She rarely lost her temper. She’d have to feel strongly in order to do that, and for so long she had been living in a state of numbness. As though someone had pressed the mute button on all her emotions, dulling everything.

“No. I’m not good.” His mouth kicked up at the corner as though she amused him, and the urge to scratch that smile off his face seized her. She curled her fingers into her palms, nails cutting into her flesh as she held the impulse in check. Barely. “I’ve been abducted. Hit. Manhandled. And the one guy I thought was going to get me out of this just proved himself as bad as the rest of them.”

His smile slipped. Her heart skipped a beat. Instantly, she knew. He resented being lumped into the same category as the others.

“If I was as bad as the rest of them . . .” His deep voice scratched the air between them. “ . . . I would not have left you alone last night.” He took her hand and dragged it between them, forcing it over the sizable bulge of his erection. Her breath caught at the hard shape of him under her fingers. “You would be well-acquainted with this.”