“Watch them,” I tell Grimm and he sighs, resigned, but I know he’ll enjoy taking a few swings just as much as the rest of them.
“I will.”
“How’s Kat?” I ask Ozzy, who meets my gaze and dips his head.
“She’s going to be sore. Some bruising and abrasions but otherwise she’s just shaken up.”
“Good,” I say even though the words feels like ash on my tongue.She should never have gotten hurt. “We’ll reconvene in the morning.”
Shaking hands with each of them, with a terse goodbye, I make my way back to the SUV and take a steadying breath before opening the door and climbing inside.
32
KAT
“Tom, where are we going?” I finally get the nerve to ask, the last ten minutes of silence eating at me from the inside.
“Somewhere safe.”
“I-I don’t have anything with me and?—”
“It’s all taken care of.”
He says the words without looking at me, his body tense and his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“But my phone, and my laptop… I don’t have any clothes.”
“And none of that matters right now, Kat.” His head snaps to look at me before turning back toward the windshield. “Someone tried to run you off the road!” he roars, the flash of anger so out of character for the normally stoic man.
“I’m sorry!” I cry because I can deal with the anger but the underlying disappointment is enough to make tears pool in my eyes again.
“I’m not a dick because I think it’s fun, Kat. It’s your fucking life. And thinkingthat could never happen to medoesn’t work. Itishappening and news flash—this is definitely your life.”
“Tom—”
“No.” The leather around the wheel squeaks as he tightens his grip. “I trusted you, Kat. I trusted you to respect me. To respect Jace. And you broke that trust.”
There’s a tremor of fear in his voice, one that goes so far beyond the professional realm we’ve been living in to the one we skirted around on the couch.
“I know,” I relent, brushing away the lone tear on my cheek.
We don’t say anything else as we drive, my focus out the passenger window, the guilt so potent I can barely breathe. It feels like we’re on the road for hours, but it’s only been twenty minutes when Tom pulls into a mostly empty parking lot. There’s an older model Range Rover backed in against the retaining wall, and after looking into the rearview mirror again, Tom pulls in beside it and kills the engine.
“Don’t move.” The command is clipped but I’m not going anywhere. I might not even be able to stand. Whether my body hurts from the impact or just being so scared, I don’t know, but every muscle is screaming right now, the spike of adrenaline wearing off in a hurry.
The trunk slams and I watch as Tom walks to the driver’s side of the other vehicle and climbs in. It roars to life. It’s dark out, but by the light of the dashboard I can see how tired he is—how stressed.
I did that.
And for what?
Nothing.
Driving to clear my head, to feel normal, almost cost me my life.
“You could have been taken, or worse.”
I watch as Tom moves from the other car back to this one, the trunk opening and closing as he transfers three large duffle bags into the back seat of the Range Rover before turning and looking at me.
