Page 29 of Corpse Roads

Hunter stumbles before righting himself. “Huh?”

“Uh, n-nothing.”

The shouting fades as we march ahead. His suit jacket is soon removed from my head, and I blink, looking around what seems to be a parking garage. There are cars everywhere.

Hunter’s still holding me close as we walk up to a huge, blacked-out beast. The wheels are almost as big as me, and it’s painted in a sleek, matte-black colour.

“Get in,” Hunter orders, opening the back door.

Staring inside, I doubt my ability to climb in. My starved, tiny body betrays me. With a mutter, a pair of strong hands land on my hips. My breath catches in my throat.

Hunter doesn’t apologise as he hoists me into the back of the car and slams the door in my face. I can still feel the burning heat where his hands squeezed my hips.

Impure sinner.

God does not condone pleasures of the flesh.

I will beat the devil from your bones.

Mrs Michaels always said that sinners make men stupid, steering them away from the path of God. My father never touched me as he touched the other girls. That did nothing to lessen her fury, though.

Hunter slides into the driver’s seat and fires up the engine. It vibrates with a throaty, powerful purr, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The minutes trickle by until Enzo suddenly appears and clambers inside.

“How bad?” Hunter snaps impatiently.

“Someone from the hospital must have leaked the story. They know we have information that we’re withholding. With our reputation, they’ve rolled out the live cameras.”

“Goddammit,” Hunter curses, throwing the car into reverse. “We’ll be splashed over the fucking newspapers by morning.”

“HQ is compromised. We can’t take her there now that they’ve put the dots together. We need to give this time to blow over.”

They share an intense conversation with lingering looks and frowns. It’s fascinating to observe. They’re almost like two halves of one person.

“You win.” Hunter slides a dark pair of sunglasses into place. “This is a temporary measure. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?” I dare to ask.

Enzo’s eyes meet mine in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re coming home with us.”

* * *

I’m woken up by someone shaking me. Hunter’s familiar spicy scent hits my nostrils. After spending so long starved of all contact, it seems I’ve become sensitive to the slightest smells and tastes.

“Wake up, Harlow. We’re here.”

Blinking sleep from my eyes, I find his grumpy face softened with exhaustion. He offers me a hand, stepping back to give me space to stretch my limbs.

I accept the offer of help, but my entire body is throbbing with pain. My last pill was several hours ago. Hunter must read something on my face, and he leans in to scoop me out of the car.

I’m placed back on my feet in the middle of a circular driveway. Two other cars are parked nearby—a smaller, sportier model, and one with a soft-top roof painted a beautiful shade of red.

“Where are we?” I say around a yawn.

“Home.”

Hunter helps me over to the massive house waiting for us. The open doorway is flanked by two stone pillars, stretching upwards into a brightly lit monster of a building.

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