The Safe Bet (Hidden Truths #1)(62)

“Michael,” Connor shouted, jogging to catch up.

Michael spun around to face Connor. “What in the hell were you thinking? And what the fuck is going on?”

Connor held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m following orders.”

“Orders?” he bit out. “Whose orders?” he asked, leaning in toward Connor.

“Mine,” Kate shouted. “I insisted I keep my date with Ethan. I couldn’t stay cooped up any longer,” she lied.

Michael released his grip on her and edged back a few feet.

Tell him the truth. She rubbed her wrist as if he’d burned her. “I’m sorry. I wanted to find Dustin. To draw him out. I’m tired of hiding.”

Connor grimaced and shook his head at Kate, warning her with narrowed eyes. “Jake thinks you should take her somewhere else.”

“Where? Somewhere else that’s out in the open so Dustin can get to her . . .” Before Kate or Connor could respond, Michael reached for Kate’s hand. “Come on, I know where to take you.” He glared at Connor. “Tell Jake I’ll call him. Don’t have him waste his time calling me.”

Michael’s Audi was waiting near a valet by the curb, its engine still on, ready to go. “Kate,” he ordered, opening the door for her.

Not wanting to upset him any further, she slipped inside the car without protest.

After tipping the valet, Michael got in the car, shifted gears, and pulled out onto the road. He gripped the wheel, his knuckles whitening. “What were you thinking? Might I remind you that a killer is following your every Goddamn move?” He looked over at her. “You lied to me.”

“How did you find me? You weren’t supposed to know . . .” She hoped she could distract him for a moment.

“I installed a tracking device on your phone.”

“What?” This time, she was the one seething with irritation. He hadn’t even blinked as he admitted the gross invasion of her privacy. She reached into her clutch and touched her phone self-consciously. “When? Why?”

“After the ball.”

He was out of line. She was too upset to talk, so she remained silent as they drove, and she was thankful he copied her.

“Where are we going?” she asked a little later when she realized they were leaving the city, heading north.

“To my place on Lake Norman,” he replied. His foot pressed a little harder on the pedal, accelerating the car to an almost dangerous speed.

“You have a place there?” That was the last place she wanted to go. Lake Norman was where her mother was murdered.

“Yes.” He continued to increase his speed.

“Be careful,” she warned, noticing the roads were slick from an earlier rain shower.

He sped up a little more, probably just to spite her.

After twenty-five minutes of driving (which should have taken thirty-five minutes), they pulled up in front of a wrought iron gate. He punched a few buttons on the electronic keypad by the gate, and it opened. They drove almost half a mile. Huge trees lined the property and the long driveway.

Kate drew in a deep breath when they reached the house. “You have a log cabin?” She tried not to betray the shock in her voice. She expected a mansion, not a one-bedroom cabin on the water. And that made her like him that much more. “It’s very . . . you.”

He parked in front of the house and got out of the car. Without waiting for her, he walked to the front door and unlocked it.

There was no way she would be able to walk to his house in her stiletto heels. She stared down at the rocky ground and contemplated her options. When she looked back up, Michael was in front of her. He must have realized her dilemma. He reached for her and scooped her into his arms.

She looked up at him as he held her and walked. “Did you like kissing him?”

His anger toward her was for more than one reason, she realized. “You’ve got to be kidding! Why the hell do you care?” she asked as her feet found the ground once inside.

He ran his hands through his thick hair, mussing it up. “Do you want him?” His voice was like hard steel.

He had no right to be acting like this—no right. Being angry for keeping her date a secret was one thing, but being jealous about it? Hell, no! “Why did you bring me here?” She crossed her arms, but before she could react, he was moving toward her, backing her up against a wall. He propped a hand on each side of her head, and she was imprisoned by his frame.

She looked at his tanned, muscular forearms, and her gaze traveled up to his shoulders, neck, and mouth. “Why am I here?” she repeated, her voice lower this time.

“You’re safer with me. Away from everyone. I don’t care what you think.” He cocked his head to the side. His face hovered a few inches from hers.

His lips were too close.

“I don’t feel particularly safe right now.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Did you like it when Ethan kissed you?”

Who the hell do you think you are? She pressed her hands against his solid chest and tried to push him away from her. “Get away,” she hissed.

But he wouldn’t budge—instead, his mouth covered hers. He kissed her for only a few seconds before she pulled away. She was too damn frustrated with him to have his lips anywhere near hers. “Why are you doing this to me? You’re hurting me more than any damned stalker could . . .”