“Oh.” Carmine looked lost. That new organ in his chest spasmed again.
Always good at reading people, Harlan switched the conversation back to Atticus. “Tell me the plan, boy. You want me to call your sister? She’ll want to meet Carmine.”
“That’s a good idea. Ask her if she’s comfortable staying a few days.” He wouldn’t disclose her secret to anyone, not even Carmine, but if she wanted to come and reveal that she was also a venom neutral vampire, Atticus figured it would help things along. Adriana could relate to Carmine, at least a little bit, and hopefully help her adjust.
“Junger expects me back in Sacramento in about a week. I figure I head back like he expects, but I meet up with one of our men a day before. Send Michael out. He can pick her up and drive all day back home. I’ll drop off the trailer at the spot, handle Junger, and then head back.”
“I can handle him for you.”
It was a humbling offer, considering Harlan was one of the most feared assassins in the UTA, but Atticus shook his head. “Zia’d be mad.”
“Not if I told her why. She’s got a mean streak a mile wide when you get her righteousness going.”
The estate’s former rosarian, Zia was all sunshine and roses and sweet smiles, but she was also the witch who shoved her own poisoned blood down a vampire’s throat with zero hesitation.She didn’t want Harlan doing any murder for hire, but if he did it to protect someone, Atticus was pretty sure she wouldn’t be too upset. But they had a kid now, and that meant the stakes were different. Even though he was certain Harlan would never be caught, he couldn’t allow him to take the risk.
And even if I could…
“Thanks, but I’m gonna pass.” He didn’t turn his head to see Carmine’s expression, but he felt her eyes on him when he added, “I want to kill the sonuvabitch myself.”
Chapter Eight
It was late,Carmine was tired, hungry, and growing increasingly uneasy.
They’d pulled over at a dusty pit stop. Sunrise was coming, and Atticus said he wanted to pick up a different synth brand before they found a safe place to park for the day.
She appreciated that for a few reasons: first, she hated the taste of the synth they had earlier in the night, and second, he’d given her another chance to run.
A part of her didn’t want to. That part was weak and tired. It wanted her to believe everything Atticus said, everything Harlan assured her was true, but it was so outlandish that she couldn’t. What were the odds that she’d get that lucky? They wanted to offer her a free place to stayandtake care of her groom? If she could have believed it, Carmine would have wept with relief.
But good things like that didn’t happen to people. At least, not to blood brides. And if she took the risk, then she’d be putting her life in unknown hands. Sure, Atticus seemed nice — growly, short-tempered, oddly compelling — but that could all be an act. He could smile at her one minute and then the next she’d find herself locked in a different cage.
She didn’t want to be locked in a cage. Not even a nice one. Carmine wanted to have her own life. She wanted to cut her hair. She wanted to find a job in a funeral home and do what she loved. She wanted to have her own money and in her own time find a real anchor, not just a groom, who wouldn’t expect her to give and receive nothing in return.
So as much as she longed to stay with Atticus, breathing in his delicious scent and listening to that strange, smoky voice, she knew that it was impossible.
“Do you need any products or anything?” Atticus pointed out the aisle to her left, where a sea of things she only barely recognized were lined up neatly on white metal shelves. It’d been so long since she’d been in a store, but her eyes immediately jumped to the makeup section. It looked relatively unchanged from when she used to go shopping with her mother at the dime store.
Her eyes stung. The urge to run over and inspect the small eyeshadow palettes was a beast in her chest. She wanted to move so fast her thin slippers flew right off her bandaged feet.
But she had no money, and she wasn’t about to ask Atticus to pay for things she didn’t need. Not when she was leaving, and not when it might all go into some debt she’d have to repay later.
Carmine shook her head and averted her eyes from the glossy labels, perfume bottles, and eyelash curlers.
Atticus touched her back. He did that a lot, and every time it sent a flurry of butterflies through her stomach like a sweet storm. “You sure, doll? No lotions? Nail polish? Lipstick? What about some ties for your hair?”
Yes,she wanted to shout.Yes, I want all of those things!But she shook her head again. Afraid he’d see her longing and that her willpower wouldn’t outlast him, she announced, “I have to use the restroom.”
She could hearthe frown in his voice when he replied, “There’s a bathroom in the RV. Let’s get our stuff and head back.”
Daring to meet his gaze, she resisted the light push of his hand on her back. “It doesn’t have much privacy. I want to use the one here.” When he still looked like he was going to argue, she widened her eyes and added, “Please, Atticus. I won’t be long.”
He clearly didn’t like it. She could see he wanted to tell her no, but after several seconds of scowling, he sighed and guided her in the opposite direction of the register. “Fine. You take as long as you need. I’ll be right out here.”
Carmine nodded and tried not to look guilty as she passed him. He leaned against the wall, the case of synth he’d picked up set by his booted feet, and crossed his bulky arms. Nothing in his posture screamed that he knew what she was doing, but she also hadn’t been able to tell he was awake when she tried to grab his gun at dusk, either.
Not her smartest plan, that. She should have just bolted for the door and taken her chances, but howling animals had woken her and made her think it would be smart to steal his weapon.
Stupid. Animals are way less dangerous than men. Now I have to find another way to escape.
