Page 35 of Captive of Outlaws

“We’re good,” I yell.

“Good.”

Rob accelerates, and I shimmy down into my bucket seat.Slowly, with a shaky hand, I click my seatbelt into place.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” I half-whisper. It was surprisingly easy to army-crawl through the HVAC system—the ducts were ginormous—and a bit less easy to jump the five feet down from the outflow to parking lot in the back of the building. That, and the sprint to the valet lot, and my legs were already feeling sore.

“Believe it.” Rob keeps his eyes on the road, shifting gears as we break past 100. “Bastards,” he mutters. “Can’t even have a day of shopping in peace.”

I frown. “I thought...never mind.” I shake my head and think better of it.

But Rob doesn’t. He flicks a glance at me. “You thought what?”

“I thought they were looking for me,” I say. “Weren’t they?”

“No offense, Maren, but why would they be looking for you at an upscale boutique?” Rob raises an eyebrow. “The sheriff’s guys are hardly crack detectives, but still. That’s not the first place I’d start looking for you, not by a long shot.”

My cheeks heat. Something about him figuring out my habits—or whataren’tmy habits—bothers me.

Or it should bother me. But it doesn’t.

“Yousureyou’re not in the mob?” I ask.

But Rob, for once, doesn’t seem to be in a joking mood. “We’re just guys who can’t get tangled up with the sheriff.”We.Not just Rob. All of them. “But you aren’t going to worry about that. Okay?”

He stares at me so hard and so long that I worry he’s going to crash the car. But I nod.

“Okay.”

“Good.” Rob nods. “Now make sure that thing’s buckled tight. We’re taking the long way home.”

LONG WAY MIGHT HAVEbeen an understatement. It takes us over an hour to get back, through a rat’s nest of dirt roads and trees, to the point where I don’t even realize that weareback until we pass through another, smaller gate and I recognize the other side of the shooting range where Will and I had met Rob the other day.

“Back entrance?” I ask, as Rob eases the car up to the other side of his...artillery bunker, or whatever it is.

Rob arches an eyebrow at me. “Shouldn’t I at least buy you dinner first?”

Oh my God.My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I fold my arms with a huff. “Don’t be—you know what I meant.” I nod at the clearing and the pathway back up to the house. It’s midafternoon now, verging on dusk, and the sky above the tops of the pine trees is starting to tinge with orange.

Rob kills the engine and hops out of the car without opening the door—showoff,I think—then jogs to my side to help me out.

I stare at him. “I know how to open a car door.”

“My mistake.” He backs off, and I get out of the car—on my own. He starts off up towards the path, and I follow. “Anyway, yes, there’s more than a few ways in. If you know what I mean.” He coughs. “I figured this option would allow us to shake anyone...and show you a bit more of Sherwood.”

There’s a note of pride in his voice that I can’t help but notice. “You like it here?”

“Like it?” Rob laughs. “Maren, with all due respect, the guys and I could afford to live anywhere in the world. Sherwood is my home. So yes, I like it.”

I kick absentmindedly at a rock in the middle of the path as we emerge by the pool. I’ve never liked Sherwood, always wanted to be anywhere elsebuthere. Sure, it’s got natural beauty, or whatever, if you’re into that. But the boundaries of this county, the city limits of Nottingham, have always been more like prison walls to me than anything else. The only people whochooseSherwood are abusive, corrupt dickheads, like John and the sheriff.

Or so I thought, anyway.

“What time is it?” I ask abruptly, partly to change the subject and partly because I have no idea. Unlike Will, I don’t wear a watch, and after those threatening texts from John I buried my dumb phone under a bunch of pillows in my bedroom.

“If you ask me?” comes a voice from above. “Cocktail hour.”

I stop short and crane my neck up to the main balcony. Will’s standing there, looking crisp and clean in a polo and shorts, and holding out a copper mug with a spring of something sticking out.

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