Her eyelids fall close as another shiver racks through her tiny body. “Then prove it,” she says as she opens her eyes.
My lips tip up at the corner. “Always. For the rest of my life.”
“What about Jeremy?”
“Damien will keep an eye out. And once things settle in a couple more weeks, we can go see him.”
Taking a deep breath, she nods and doesn’t run when I drop my hold to her elbows. “Where’d you park?”
Bella’s coming with me willingly.
Bella trusts me to keep her safe.
Bella wants to be with me.
“On the road.”
She sniffles, wipes away her tears, and starts moving in the direction that I came.
“Hey, no, get your ass back here.”
“What?” she frowns, looking back at me.
“I’m mad at you, too.”
Her eyebrows hike up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“It’s cold.” I pull her hood over her head, button up her jacket, and wrap her scarf around her properly, all while she gawks at me. “And for God’s sake, Bella, if you’re going to run, at least take some money and the IDs with you. This isn’t amateur hour.”
Chapter 31
ISABELLA
Roughcottonscratchesagainstmy cheeks as I turn over in bed. My back hurts. My ass hurts. My goddamn eyes hurt. I’m so sick of sitting in a freaking car.
Even with Roman and I’s fickle truce after he picked me up from the station, things are still tense. I’m not ready to go back to where we were before he went to prison or even before I almost got kidnapped.
But he’s trying to make it up to me; I know he is.
After a lot of arguing last night, he respected my wishes to let me have a bed all to myself. Trying to fall asleep while he watched me from his spot on the chair was unnerving, but I managed to, eventually. Part of me thinks he only agreed to keep his hawk eyes on me to ensure I don’t run again.
I honestly wasn’t sure how I got away yesterday morning. He’s a light sleeper, and he’s become worse since he came back. I guess prison changed him after all.
Peeling my eyelids back, I survey the room, searching for Roman. The bathroom door is open, and all our stuff is still here. He probably went off to get breakfast. I guess he thinks leaving me is a show of trust or something.
But I admit, it’s unlike him to be out of bed before nine-thirty in the morning.
Whatever, he’ll be back whenever he’s back.
Yawning, I rub sleep out of my eyes as I crawl out of bed, ready to use all the hot water. I reach for one of the duffle bags on the floor—they all look the same, so it’s a guessing game to figure out which is mine.
Kneeling on the floor, I stretch and click out my rigid joints before unzipping the bag to get a change of clothes. Various shades of dark clothes spill out of the bag as I search for a pair of underwear and a fresh shirt before I realize that I’m looking through Roman’s bag.
Just as I’m about to place the contents back in, my fingers wrap around something solid. Frowning, I pull it out and inspect the stack of envelopes tied together by rubber bands. Needles prickle my throat as nervousness fills my body. It’s addressed to me.
Tentatively, I remove the bands and pick up the first letter, seeing it ripped open already. Right in the corner is a stamp:UNITED STATES PENITENTIARY.Every single letter has the same return and sending address.
My heart slams against my chest, unsure if I should pull it out. Why does Roman have this? Why is it addressed to me? Who opened it?
