My ears perk at this, and I slow my breathing enough to listen.
“Peony didn’t have a bank account before, so I suggested she open one. We chatted about it, and she used the credit union. I know where it is.”
Credit union? What does that have to do with anything?
“Because,” Kellen continues, opening the door to the car and gesturing for me to get in. “That must be what this guy is after, if he left here. He thought Peony would have moneyon her, like she did before. But it’s all in her bank account now.”
My mind tries to catch up, as lost in the fog of rage as it is. Bank account. Money. That’s what all this was for?
Money?
I snarl and climb into the car, slamming the door as I squeeze into the passenger seat. Kellen and Ignacio jump in, and Kellen starts the engine.
“We’re going to find her,” he says. “I promise.”
peony
As we approach the credit union, I sort through my options. Andy has a gun at my back, and he’s just unhinged enough he might be willing to use it should I try to ask the teller for help. That puts all of us at risk, and I don’t want to see how that ends.
I could try to send a message, maybe—mouth the words while Andy can’t see my face.
As we get out of the truck and Andy assumes his position behind me, I glance around the mostly empty parking lot, looking for what, I don’t even know. Some way to run, to escape.
No. If I want to return to Rupert, I need to survive long enough to get there. And faced with what Andy might do to me, how my life could abruptly end should he press the trigger, I need to play it safe. He can have the money. I don’t want it more than I want my life.
If Andy will let me live—and that’s a rather bigif. Even if I get him all the money, what’s to guarantee he’ll release me?
The bastard puts his arm around my waist, his hand withthe gun hidden under his jacket. We approach the roped-off waiting line where two other people stand ahead of us.
Andy says nothing to me, but I can feel his breath against my neck as we wait not-so-patiently behind the person in front of us. The line moves forward as another patron approaches the teller. I survey both people behind the counter: a nerdy-looking guy with glasses, and a tall woman with a black jacket and severe brows. I wonder which one we’ll get.
“Don’t get any silly ideas,” Andy whispers to me. “I can hear your mind turning.”
Goosebumps erupt across my arms. If I try to do anything at all besides what I’m supposed to, he’ll notice.
Up ahead, the customer with the nerdy teller finishes, and now it’s our turn. Andy and I walk up together, and I paste on my brightest smile.
“Hi there! I need to withdraw the balance of my account.”
The teller blinks. “Oh, all right.” He taps a key on his keyboard. “What for?”
I didn’t expect this question.
“We’re buying a car,” interjects Andy.
The teller frowns thoughtfully. “Have you thought about one of our loans?”
“No, no, we’re buying it outright.” I grab a pen and click it. The cold steel tip of the gun worms deeper under my shirt. “What do I need to do?”
The teller pushes up his glasses by the bridge and grabs a slip for me to fill out. I don’t have my account number on me, unfortunately, because I kept everything important in a folder in my drawer back at the mansion, so I hand over my driver’s license. He examines the picture, then my face, and pauses as he studies me. My smile probably looks as stretched and fake as it feels.
The teller looks like he’s about to ask a question, but then he closes his mouth, returns my driver’s license, and starts looking me up in his system.
“You want to withdraw your entire balance, or a specific amount?” he asks for confirmation.
“The entire balance,” Andy says. The teller’s brows crease. I can tell he’s starting to get suspicious.
“Yes, everything,” I reiterate.
