My throat narrows as he pulls into a driveway hidden behind a thick hedge. Although, driveway might be too fancy a word for the dried tyre tracks in mud that delineate the path.
We drive along the rough track for three or four minutes, working our way deeper into the lush forest, before pulling up behind a large wooden house with rotting slats and a sagging porch. A chimney rests on the ground beside the rear exit door, the neat placement and striped tarpaulin indicating it was a victim of the earthquakes that were—I do a quick calculation in my head—thirteen years ago.
Probably about the same time this place last had a regular occupant. It appears the surrounding acreage is reclaiming the mouldering villa as its own.
“Get out,” he barks at me. “We’re making a pit stop.”
I could run, but it’d take me twenty minutes to jog back to the road. That’s presuming he didn’t immediately catch me. Since he takes one step to my three, it seems a fait accompli.
Even if I make it back to the road, then what? Walk to the prison? I’m sure they’d be ecstatic to let me in, stinking of fear and sweat, my feet in their sensible heels blistered and bleeding.
“Give me the keys. I’ll take the car and get out of your hair. If anyone ever asks, I’ll say nothing, I swear. I don’t even know your name.”
He walks around the front end of the car and flings my door open, leaning across to undo my seatbelt and putting me in a fireman’s lift over his shoulder with as much effort as I’d use to drape a towel. He holds me steady with one large hand squarely across my arse.
“You’re sticking with me until I contact some friends, then you’re free and clear. Until then, not a chance.”
Not a chance.
Sounds about right.
“Malakai. Kai for short,” he mutters as he forces the front door open with his opposite shoulder and sets me down inside. I’ve never felt more physically inferior than I do right now. He’s not even breathing heavy.
“Your mother was religious?”
“My mother was high,” he snaps back, striding into the room to his right, which turns out to be a kitchen. He opens drawers, rifling their contents and slamming them shut.
“What’re you looking for?”
“You to stop interfering.” He gives a grunt of satisfaction when he finds a pair of scissors, pulling them and a ball of twine from the drawer before stripping off his sweatpants.
My eyes flick to his crotch like they’re pulled by strings. The large bulge there makes my face flush, and I force my gaze in the opposite direction. What do I care if he’s proportionate? I just want to get the hell out of here.
He attacks the fabric, cutting out the prison insignia before dragging them back on. He lays the scissors on the bench while my eyes move further along, landing on the knife block.
Empty. My eyes return to the scissors.
“Don’t even think about it,” Malakai snaps, moving so close my hairs stand on end. “The moment you try to attack me, I’ll break you apart.”
My gaze falls to the floor, and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. His voice carries the same menace as my ex. I know all too well how easy it will be for him to do exactly as he says. Ten years since I last saw my husband and I’m still gluing pieces of myself back in place.
I pull at the skin on my neck, trying to open my airway. “You know Josh well?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I dare to send my gaze upwards again, wondering at the touch. It feels like an attempt at comfort, but his expression is still cautious. The front of his thigh brushes against mine and I swallow the flood of saliva that pours into my mouth for no reason as he replies, “Barely.”
There aren’t any good options left, but I try to pick the best one. I can’t fight him, can’t attack him, would probably die in the attempt.
Explaining to him, reasoning with him, is my only chance at gaining what I want, to get back to prison and complete the visit with my son.
I hate to ask for anything from a man who’s taken me hostage without a qualm, but I must put Josh’s interests first. It’s a matter of life and death.
“He’s in trouble.”
Malakai snorts and moves away to resume searching the drawers. “Aren’t we all?”
Tears well up out of nowhere and I choke them back, sniffing. Not the right time. Not at all. “If I don’t visit him, he’ll be attacked.”
The giant man stills, head cocked to one side.
