Page 42 of You've Got The Love
Her fingers fumble for the burner phone. “I have to call Dad. I—” She swallows hard. “I’m scared, Bas.”
“Call him.” My voice is firm. “Do it now.”
She dials with trembling hands. The call connects after one ring.
“Amber.” Her dad’s voice is low, wind in the background. “Talk to me.”
“Dad—” Her voice cracks. “They’re here in bloody Copenhagen. They’re following us right now. A black van—I can see them in the mirror?—”
I glance at her. She’s pale, knuckles white around the phone.
Jack’s voice hardens. “You listen to me. You keep movin’. Don’t stop.The Reapershave chapters all over Europe.Sweden, Denmark, Germany, France… hell, evenSpain. They’ll know someone who knows someone everywhere you go.”
Amber’s breath shudders. “So they’re really hunting us?”
“They are,” Jack says. “And I’ve got one of my Denmark chapters tryin’ to get to you, but the fuckin’Reapercunts are causin’ hell. They’re hittin’ my guys with distractions,keepin’ ‘em fuckin’ busy. Until they can break free…” He hesitates, and I can hear the weight in his silence. “…you’re on your own.”
Amber squeezes her eyes shut. “We can’t outrun them forever, Dad.”
“You fuckin’ can,” he says firmly. “You have to. Stay off main roads when you can. Don’t stop unless you have to. And Amber—” His voice softens, all the sharp edges turning to ache. “—make sure you stay alive. I ain’t livin’ without you.”
Her gaze flicks to me, and I give her the smallest nod.
“I love you, Dad,” she whispers, her chin wobbling, holding on as best she can.
“Love you too, babygirl. Call when you’re clear.”
The line goes dead.
Amber lowers the phone slowly, her hand trembling. Then she reaches for mine like she’s afraid I might vanish.
“I’m so scared,” she whispers, raw and small.
“I know.” I squeeze her hand once, grounding her. “But I’ve got you.”
Rain streaks the windshield as we merge onto the highway. The tyres hiss against the wet asphalt, and my eyes flick constantly to the mirrors. The black van lingers like a shadow, just far enough back to keep me guessing.
Whatever this is between Amber and me—fear, adrenaline, or the slow burn I’ve tried to deny for years—one thing is sure.
No one is taking her from me.
Chapter 24
Amber
The van rocks gently in the wind as Bastiaan pulls us off the highway into a stretch of forest that feels like the middle of nowhere. Denmark is all pines and stillness, a vast, damp wilderness that should feel safe. It doesn’t.
He drives down a narrow dirt track until the trees close around us, the last traces of the highway vanishing in the rearview mirror. When he finally eases the van to a stop, the world goes still. He kills the engine, and the sudden silence makes my ears ring. My whole body buzzes with adrenaline, coiled tight as a spring.
“They’re gone,” he says at last, his voice low, scanning the tree line like he doesn’t entirely believe it. His hands flex on the wheel, knuckles pale against the dark leather. He’s calm on the outside, but I’ve been around him long enough to read the signs—his jaw is tight, his shoulders rigid, every nerve still strunglike wire.
I nod, but the fear doesn’t fade. It sits in my throat and chest, sharp and heavy, in the tremor that won’t leave my hands. My breath fogs the window, proof of how shallow and uneven it is.
“Bas…” My voice comes out as barely a whisper. “What if they catch up?”
“They won’t.” He turns to me fully, and the intensity in his dark eyes pins me to the seat. “I won’t let anything happen to you,liefje.”
The endearment hits me like a spark to dry grass, catching fast and hot. Heat roars through me, drowning the fear. My stomach flips, my pulse surges for an entirely different reason. I don’t think. I move.
