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Callie grabs Alibi's bag and hooks it over her shoulder. “I'll follow you.”
“No.”
She stops. Her expression looks like she’s about ready to go to war. “No?”
I knew this was going too fucking well.
“Your SUV stays here.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Excuse me?”
“I'll drive.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I'm apparently staying at your house for several days, right?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“I take you where you need to go.”
She stares at me. “No.”
“Callie.”
“Roman.”
“It'll be safer.”
“For who?”
“You.”
“And considerably more convenient for the man who wants to know where I am every second of the day.”
“That too.”
Her eyes narrow.
For someone who likes stalking me, she certainly doesn’t like when it’s reversed.
“I need my vehicle.”
“No, you don't.”
“I have a job.”
“So do I.”
“I have errands.”
“I have a truck.”
“I have a life.”
