Page 8 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

Come on, even weirdos in creep vans put in more effort. I was worth at least a chocolate bar.

He sounded insulted by my insinuation. “I’m not trying to kidnap you.”

“Said every kidnapper ever.”

“Kidnappers don’t announce their intentions.”

Touché.

“They would if they were trying to throw someone off their game.”

Which was apparently what I did to this guy. His brows knit together causing a crease of confusion to form in his forehead.

“Why would they do that? It’s easier to grab the bitch.”

Uh huh?

“You seem to know a lot about kidnapping.” I tipped my head and side eyed him. “Done this before, have you?”

“Yes.”

I was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to admit that. How was this guy not in prison? Seriously? What were the cops in this town doing?

“Well, as charming as I’m sure you are… what’s your name?”

“Marty.”

Marty? Really? I wouldn’t think someone with arms as big as my thighs would have a name like that, but okay.

“As charming as I’m sure you areMarty, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gio sent me.”

Oh well, in that case…“Go fuck yourself.”

Gio couldn’t come himself? He had to send one of his goons? I was insulted by his lack of commitment.

“I’m not fucking around young lady–”

“Hey!” I cut him off. “I may be young, but how dare you call me a lady.”

I wasn’t going to stand for insults like that.

He smacked his lips together. “Get in the goddamn car.”

“I have my own ride, thank you.” I tipped my chin towards my truck, parked at the back of the garage.

When he looked that way, his face scrunched up. “That thing runs?”

“Yes, it runs.”

Just because it wasn’t shiny and one color, didn’t mean it didn’t work. In fact it probably worked better than his. I bet he never felt the joy of using a screwdriver to turn on his fancy Range Rover. And what was with that anyway? Were Range Rovers the official vehicle of the Italian mafia, ‘cause they could do better.

“Now, if you don’t mind…”

I moved to walk away, but Marty stepped in front of me.

“I was sent to pick you up, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

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