I bite down on my cheeks, and the pain wrenches the memory away. I refuse to dwell on what happened in that closet.
None of that matters. If I don’t get myself out of this mess soon, nothing does.
With an irritated sigh, I shift in my seat to find a more comfortable position. An urgent sensation in my bladder informs me that I need to pee.
Silence vibrates through the SUV as we race down the interstate toward some unknown destination. I could ask Brody about where we’re headed, but I doubt he’d tell me. He could be driving me out to the middle of the desert to kill me or delivering me to Declan. Or maybe he’s taking us on a sightseeing expedition of various forms of cacti, in which case, I plan to push him onto the pokiest one.
I just know that, wherever we’re going, they’d better have a bathroom.
A few minutes later, I reach my breaking point. “Pull over.”
Brody ignores me.
“Seriously.” I lean toward the front seat, regretting the added pressure on my already full bladder. “I have to pee. We’ve got to stop somewhere.”
More silence.
“Do youwantto spend the trip huffing down eau de urine? Please. Pull over.”
Brody’s grip on the wheel tightens, the little checkered BMW symbol winking between his white knuckles. “Fine, but this is your only pit stop.”
After five minutes or so, Brody engages the vehicle’s turn signal. We’re exiting the highway.
When I lift my head to scope out the area, I spy a decrepit gas station with three pumps and a glitchy open sign.
He dips the car alongside the pump at the end. Without a word, he switches off the engine and climbs out of the driver’s seat. I immediately fumble for the back door, yanking the handle uselessly until I realize it’s not moving because he has the child locks engaged.
When I glance up, my throat tightens.
Brody hovers just outside my window. He can’t see me through the dark tint, but I swear he’s still mocking me. Probably relishing in my desperation.
Rage calcifies like a stone inside my stomach. I toss myself into the front seat and lay on the SUV’s horn.
Within seconds, he rips the driver’s side door open and tugs me out onto the pavement, steadying me as I stumble over the seats. Fire blazes in his eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I jerk my chin at the ancient convenience store to our left, the wordRestroomsilluminated in flickering neon green.
My kidnapper releases a beleaguered sigh before cuffing his hand around my tricep and pulling me toward the left side of this hole-in-the-wall shop. “I was planning on letting you out as soon as I finished gassing up.” He ignores the way my eyes widen over his admission and pins me with a suspicious glare. “Any more tricks, though?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Insert generic threat here.”
We arrive at the bathrooms, one gray door for men and one for women built into the side of the gas station.
I expect Brody to let me go alone as we approach, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts a muscled leg and kicks the door to the woman’s stall open, revealing a small green-and-white tiled room with an aging, dirty toilet, a twitchy overhead light, and a trash can overflowing with old paper towels.
At this point, I’ll take anything.
Brody shoves me inside and follows me in.
Alarm bells peal through my exhausted mind, and I wrench out of his grasp and spin around. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Property surveillance.” He tries to close the bathroom door, but I smack my palm against the metal as hard as I can.
Is he out of his mind? “Absolutely not. I’m not peeing until this door is locked with you on the other side. A girl deserves privacy.”
“Not a chance. I never make the same mistake twice.” The growl in his voice harbors menace. “After that disappearing act you pulled at the hotel, I’m not leaving you by yourself for any reason. Got it?”
“Yourinadequacy is not my problem. If you think I’m going to give you a free show, you’re off your rocker.”
