Page 36 of Captive of Outlaws

“Slainte,” he adds, and toasts us before taking a sip. “Where’ve you been with her, you miserable bastard? She doesn’t strike me as the type to make you hold her purse for hours.”

Rob scratches the back of his head. “We...ran into some friends,” he says, glancing sideways at me. The hackles on the back of my neck rise.

“Maren!” Tuck joins Will at the edge of the balcony, apint glass in his hand. “How was it? You get some nice stuff? Not that you don’t look nice now, I mean, just...uh...” He looks at Will, who shakes his head and smirks.

“Oh, no, you’re on your own there, bud,” Will says. “Just keep digging deeper.”

“I...I mean...”

“It’s fine,” I say, cutting things off at the pass. I bite back a smile. “Shopping success. I’ve got what sounds like a whole wardrobe on the way.”

Rob, who’s started up the stairs, nods, flicking away a message on his phone. “Jack’s having it delivered tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Tuck says, looking relieved as Rob and I arrive on the balcony.

“That sounds like it calls for a drink,” Will adds.

“Whatdoesn’tcall for a drink, in your mind?” Tuck frowns at him.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. IPA.” Will nods at Tuck’s pint glass.

“Hey, it’s my own homebrew!”

“Just don’t force it on her,” Will says, nodding at me. “She’ll be too polite to tell you it tastes like shit.”

Tuck blushes. “It’s a work in progress,” he explains.

Will turns to me. “How about a glass of wine?” he offers. “I’ve got a nice Cotes du Rhone—”

“God, you’re such a snob.” Tuck groans. “Maren, I apologize on his behalf.”

I can’t help but let out a laugh. After the absolute insanity that was my second car chase—almost—in as many days, it’s nice to see something as ordinary as two guys bickering at each other.

“Wine sounds nice,” I tell Will. “Whatever you suggest.”

He flashes a grin. “Beautiful. Be right back.”

Rob darts a glance at Will, and they head into the house together—to talk about what secret nonsense, I don’t know or care. I’m just glad to be sitting on firm ground.

Tuck and I make our way to the dining table at the edge of the balcony that looks out over the grounds. It’s warmer up here, and I relish the easy breeze running through my hair—a relief compared to the high-velocity winds in the car.

I glance around as I take my seat. “No LJ?” I ask.

“He...” Tuck hesitates as he sits. “No,” he admits.

“He hates me,” I say, matter-of-factly.

“No!” Tuck insists. “I mean, well...he doesn’thateyou, Maren. He just needs to adjust to you being here.”

That makes two of us, I think. But I don’t have much sympathy for LJ, to be honest. If anyone should be stressed out about me staying here, it should beme.Not one of these rich boys who doesn’t have to give up anything meaningful to accommodate me. “What’s his deal, anyway?”

Tuck sips his beer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s clearly got...something going on.” I gesture around my head. “Is it...PTSD, or something?”

“Ah,” Tuck says. “It’s...yeah, it’s complicated.” A distant look fogs over his eyes. “LJ’s just very...territorial. He doesn’t want anyone getting into trouble. Again, I mean.” He scratches the back of his neck. “We’ve all got a kind of...checkered past before we got here, if you can believe it.”

A giant secret forest mansion concealing some kind of unspoken illegal activity? “Yeah, I can.”

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