I popped the door and climbed out, then turned back to regard him. “One more thing. Exactly how much danger was I in of you taking me whether I agreed to this or not?”
Dark delight flared in his eyes. It said my kidnapper and I had a deal, but there was a hair’s width between that and him doing what he wanted regardless.
Still, I had an in. A chink in his armour. An agreement to open up to me. And that was the most fascinating, compelling part of it all.
Chapter 13
The Watcher
Lovelyn disappeared into the brightly lit house, leaving Kane to stare after her. He climbed from his car to stalk to her front path, his careful gaze on the surroundings.
Protecting her, it seemed.
He didn’t spot me.
Not when they’d sat and talked, and not when I’d been in his car a day before.
He trusted his instincts, but mine were better. Everywhere the two of them went, I would follow.
And when they finally reached her, I’d be there first.
Chapter 14
Lovelyn
With the doors locked and my purple bag on the back seat next to Kane’s black holdall, I clipped in my seat belt. “Good to go.”
His gaze eased over me, taking in my change of clothes. I’d kept the cream jumper, though now had a bra and strappy top underneath and paired it with a warm, plum-coloured long skirt. Somehow, his attention on me was always heated, no matter what I wore.
“Did ye wake your ma to tell her that you’re going?”
“No need. Empty house for a few nights.”
If he thought the answer strange, he didn’t say, only gunning the engine for a path I wasn’t yet sure of. Kane took us out of the suburbs and onto the road that joined the motorway heading south out of Deadwater.
Against the thrumming of the road and the whine of the wind through his partially open window, he stayed quiet. While this appeared to be his default mode, I wondered if I’d used up all his words for the night in obtaining his confessions.
I tested the water. “Where are we going?”
“Manchester, but for a maximum of a few hours. Where were you going?”
“Warford. That’s under an hour away. We were heading in the same direction.”
He lifted his chin in recognition.
I expected him to slump back into silence, but he surprised me.
“You asked about the threat to Dixie. Her previous attack is my clue. The timing is very close to when Mila’s grandfather died.”
The man had been grandfather to all of them, but I didn’t correct him.
“You’re connecting that to the Marchant family? She told me she was a victim of the Deadwater murderer.”
That person had killed four others in the same way they’d attacked Dixie, their throats cut. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence.
“What if she wasn’t? It’s possible her attempted murder was by that same method in order to conceal the true perpetrator. It makes sense that she’d run after realising the same thing. Her life is in danger, even if I can’t work out why.”
Information slotted together in my head, new connections made and a fresh picture emerging. “Thank you for sharing.”
