Cord hated surrendering driving control to Lowell—mostly for his own safety—but it made sense to switch vehicles. As they regained the highway, he glanced back, the fast-food bag untouched. “Doing okay?”
“Brilliant,” she snarked, but the bravado crumbled and there sat a raw, frightened woman, staring out the truck window. “I can’t believe you did this. You realize he’s just going to find me, right? Then I’ll get the beating of a lifetime, lose any privileges I’ve earned and—”
“Hey.”
She blinked, meeting his gaze firmly. Daring him to tell her it’d be okay. She’d heard the lie before, he bet.
“Privileges?” He raised his eyebrows. “Privileges shouldn’t be a home and feeling safe. You shouldn’t have to lay down your soul for that.” He told himself to calm down. “Besides, don’t worry??—I’ll make sure he never touches you again.”
“Easy words, harder to make good on them.” She deflated with a huff, leaning back against the headrest. “Idiots.”
He didn’t take the words personally. She’d been to Hell and back, endured the worst of men. Experienced a lot of broken promises and executed threats. There was so much to process and plenty to warrant her roiling anger.
A while later, her voice carried through the quiet of the truck cabin. “I heard you and that woman. Why were you talking about … him?”
The unexpected softening of her words and her inability to say Stone’s name surprised him. She sounded … small. Wounded. Her auburn hair, olive complexion, and wide brown eyes were nothing compared to the size of the fight in her. Evidenced by the split cheek. Big fight in a very small package, especially for the power player he’d tagged at the house.
“How’s the cheek?”
She scowled at him for not answering her question, then pushed her gaze out the window. “It hurts??—a lot. Like being ignored.” Quiet for several minutes, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“Trip’s a little over an hour, if you want to grab some Zs.”
With another huff, she burrowed into the corner of the door, whether brooding or sleeping, he couldn’t tell. She’d been powerless for a long time, he guessed, and while he didn’t want to exacerbate that sense, he also didn’t want her trying to bail on the highway if she decided going to Metcalfe was the wrong move.
This was going to be his most ballistic placement, but it’d work, and she’d be safe because he was counting on the guy’s warrior ethos that was shaped by godly values. Stone Metcalfe didn’t do anything halfway. That’s probably how he’d careened down that slippery slope right into the arms of this beautiful woman.
“Look, I’m going to know in what—fifty minutes?” She really wasn’t one to surrender control easily, was she? “Why not tell me now?”
“Why not snag some rest so you’re not irritable when we get there?”
“Wow. Harsh much?”
“All the time,” Lowell chimed in.
“What is this? Throw Cord under the bus hour?” He sniffed and adjusted his seatbelt. “We never give out information on placement before arrival. Do we?”
Lowell lifted a hand. “This is different.”
“Every case is different.”
“That’s a bunch of bul—”
“Okay, okay,” Lizzy groaned. “Forget I asked.”
Chapter
Four
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
“What a fabulous meal. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“Spent months not being able to sleep. Cooking show reruns kept me company.”
His mom eyed him, sympathy there and he just prayed she didn’t start in on him already. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “it’s hard to remember you’re my adult son, not the teenager running around the house in his swim trunks and Hawaiian shirt trying to be like those TV shows.”
“That was over twenty-five years ago.”
