Page 74 of Girl Anonymous

It didn’t change a thing. They were up shit creek without a paddle. Still…through all the difficulties and anguish, trust had grown between them. That was nice to know.

Just like she knew he hadn’t forgotten to tell her who the other person was, and that meant he wasn’t going to. If he trulytrusted her, and she knew he wouldn’t have said it unless he meant it, then only the sensitive identity of that other person stopped him. And that made her think…

He said, “I know Octavia is going to worry when she can’t contact you, but I promise as soon as it’s viable, I’ll contact her and assure her of your safety.”

“Thank you. That’s good of you to think of her.”

“She’s my mother-in-law. Alex is my sister-in-law. Because of what happened to Alex, I already had placed them under protection. That order won’t be rescinded until I feel sure of their safety.”

Maarja’s breath caught. All that had happened:la Bouteille de Flammein her drawer, the fake wedding that Dante took so seriously, the flare of heat from the bottle and stopper (she looked at her palm, which still didnot, she told herself, tingle with sensation), this fear that drove them—all made her aware that someone, somewhere could capture Mom and Alex and use them to control her.

As she absorbed that truth, this trip took on new urgency. She had to get somewhere, do something, to protect the ones she loved.

Allthe ones she loved.

She didn’t love Dante.

She didn’t love Dante.

She didn’t love Dante. He was a strong man, a Boss with the capital B, but he could be taken, tortured, killed. She’d seen death. She knew its face. She didn’t love Dante, but she didn’t want him wearing that face.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Theoretically Dante and Maarja were drivingoutof San Francisco,awayfrom the morning rush hour, so the traffic shouldn’t have been terrible. But not terrible for the Bay Area equaled solid suckage, and no cell phones meant they couldn’t use GPS to find a better route. They weren’t going anywhere, merelystaring at miles of brake lights while Maarja fiddled with her leather pants.

“The legs won’t go back together?” Dante asked.

Maarja sighed in exasperation. “Not in this car. It’s so small I can’t maneuver.”

“Leave them. I like it.”

“Because it looks like a leather skirt slit up to my vajayjay.”

“Of course.” He was such an unabashed male animal.

She scooched and adjusted until the leg slits were on the side. “There. Now it’s slit up to myhips. That’s a little less…southern exposure.”

“You have great hips. Great legs. However you want to show them to me is a boy’s wet dream.” He sounded so ravenous andhappy.

“I’m not showing them to you, I’m—”

He smirked.

She smoothed the leather over her knees. “Anyway, you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road.”

“I am.”

Someone honked behind them.

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s your fault.” He gave the finger to the car behind them. “Your legs make me think of yourchatte. Are you still wet? I came like a boy and now I want to do it again.”

“Traffic is moving!”

In a happy tone, he said, “You already nag like a wife.” He drove forward at twenty miles per hour.

She wasn’t going to win, so she subsided into silence.

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