Page 39 of Mercenary
“Thank you for helping me,” I murmur, hoping to break the ice.
Nothing.
I complete a mental eye roll. “What’s our plan?”
“We’ll head to Dayton first. If your sister isn’t there, we’ll move on to Shelby.” I should be happy he’s graced me with an answer, breaking up the quiet tension between us. But he’s confirmed something I’ve been wondering about since crossing state lines.
“Shelby.”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “Too dangerous. In case you missed it, the mob is after me for something my sister has done. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
My eyebrows arch in surprise at his admission. “What did Kylie do?”
“I’ve said enough.”
“After all that’s happened, what makes you think all hell won’t break loose when I show my face in Shelby?”
I watch, alarmed, as he stiffens and tightens his grip on the steering wheel.
“It’s not safe.”
“No one is going to fuck with you,” he grinds out.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because no one fucks with me.”
I think about the men back at the truck stop. Do I really want more bloodshed and violence? No. Definitely not. But if I’m going to find my sister, who seems to be neck-deep in this troubling world, I’ve found the perfect hardcore, knife-loving man who has just committed to keeping guard over me. “What is your relationship with Kylie?”
“No more questions.”
I sigh. “Well, you clearly don’t know my sister well or we wouldn’t be back in this state looking for her.”
He scowls. “Why not?”
“She has a pet name for this place, Okla-fuck-me-homa. Why go back when there’s not a single thing here that she’d stick around for? You must have heard about Darwin’s theory of natural selection. One main point being individuals with characteristics most suited to their environment are more likely to survive. Shelby was never the ideal place for my sister, especially in recent years.”
“And you?” he murmurs. My pulse speeds up with delight.
“No, I thrive best in the sunshine, preferably by a beach.” Or within the darkness of a lab, yet I refrain from elaborating. I already geeked out about Darwin.
He checks the rearview mirror.
I turn and look over my shoulder. A few cars are behind us, a family in a minivan being the closest. No threat there.
Once more, silence fills the space between us.
If I like sunshine, he must thrive within Arctic conditions. He’s like frozen glass. Icy to the touch and hard to see into. Drawn tightly into himself, keeping everything out. Buried deep inside him is there a shattered soul? A damaged heart, threadbare like a pair of worn-out socks?
Little things like his intense grip on the steering wheel or the tick in his cheek give him away. No one is impenetrable.
Eventually he’ll crack.
Whatever it is that draws me to him, this undeniably intense attraction between us, between a female and male, a woman and her potential mate, this odd, unspoken bond we share, I’ll hopefully appreciate more clearly one day.
