“I guess we have to move.”
“To where?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll let Daniil know what happened and he can pick a place for us.”
“This is annoying,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Like, what the fuck? Why are they so determined to get to me?”
“All I can think of is that we saw their faces.”
“You think they’re after you too?”
“Possibly. But it could also be that they just want you. That’s the thing with traffickers—you used to be a model and stuff, so there’s a chance that some stupidly rich sheik somewhere saw your picture and decided he wanted you. That’s not usually how sex rings work, but at this point, we have to consider all the options.”
“Do you think they’ll continue coming after you if they get me?”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not?” she asks in confusion.
“Because if they got you, that means I’m already dead.”
Chapter Sixteen
Allora
If they got you, that means I’m already dead…
Sleep doesn’t come easily for the rest of the night, and I toss and turn until around six thirty when I finally give up. I shower, get dressed for the day, do my hair, and even put on a little makeup. I don’t know why I feel like I need to do something normal, but I want to feel pretty. Whether it’s for myself, for Landon, or for some more deep-seated reason doesn’t matter—it feels right in the moment.
However, when I walk into the kitchen, Landon does a double take.
“Good morning,” I say slowly.
Our eyes meet and his are filled with…heat?
That seems illogical since he turned me down the other night, but I know men, and his expression tells a completely different story than his actions did.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks quietly.
“Not really, no.”
“You look…nice.”
“Thank you. I thought it was time I put a little effort in that department. I always did before and I’m not going to let this experience change a fundamental part of my personality.”
“You shouldn’t,” he agrees.
“Do we have a game plan for today?”
“We’re going to pack our stuff, both for the next few days and for Denver, and then we’re going to headquarters. Once we get there, we’ll figure out what’s next. Chances are, we’re going to get out of town. Then fly to Denver from wherever we end up.”
“Okay.” I’m learning not to question the process. This is his job and I have to trust that he knows how to do it. “Should I let my dad know we’re leaving?”
He hesitates. “No. The fewer people who know where we are, the better. People talk, even if they don’t mean any harm. He says something in front of a prospect, the kid mentions it to his grandma, she tells her knitting club, and then it turns out that someone in her knitting club is related to the bad guy.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Well, that sucks. Poor imaginary grandma.”
We chuckle.
