She sounds more annoyed than scared.
"Put it away before you accidentally shoot me."
"I would never," I growl, stepping forward, but she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me as if she's giving me a moment to rethink my choices. "I can't. I need to protect us."
"Your friends aren't going to hurt me."
"They aren't my friends," I argue.
"They made sure you lived when you were stabbed. Enemies don't do that. Put the damn gun down and tell me what's going on."
"You'll think I'm crazy."
Surprisingly, she doesn't lift her eyebrows or scoff like the train already left the station on that idea.
Chapter 34
Zara
He seems in control, but also not in control.
No matter where his head is at right now, I don't feel like I'm in any danger. I haven't since I realized it was him and not someone linked to either Billy or Tommy.
If anything it felt more like my white knight was there to grab me so we could ride off into the sunset, only he drove my piece of shit car, U-Haul and all, and instead of going anywhere, he took me a few miles further into the mountains to his cabin and told me to go right back to the basement room I was held prisoner in a few days ago.
"You'll think I'm crazy," he insists when I demand answers.
"I won't," I promise, and it's a hundred percent the truth.
If he's crazy, then I'm crazy for feeling how I do about being here.
I wanted him to come for me. Hell, I wanted him to beg me to stay when he was on my front porch several hours ago. I wanted him to fucking fight for me. I think that pulling a gun on the men he's been working with because they're trying to talk sense into him about keeping me here is his way of telling me he wants me around.
I couldn't hear all of what he said to them but I heard him claim me.
"She's fucking mine," were his exact words, and hearing them made everything make sense, at least to that part of my head that never wants to listen to reason.
"The gun," I urge, but he doesn't put it away.
I know he thinks he needs it, and, honestly, I don't know what would happen if one or both of those men pushed their way into this room.
I feel a little bit of relief when he at least lowers it to his side rather than keeping it pointed at the door.
"Have a seat," I urge, watching him move with me when I reach for the chair he sat in the other day.
It doesn't go unnoticed that he keeps himself between me and the door, only I feel like it's for my own protection rather than him trying to keep me here.
I wonder what his response would be if I asked him to leave with me. If I confessed my fears about driving with the trailer, would he offer to take me wherever I wanted to go before begging to stay with me?
I swallow as I shove those ideas away.
He stands near the chair but doesn't lower his body until I take a seat on the end of the bed.
Before I can open my mouth, he turns the chair to fully face the door.
"They aren't going to bother us," I assure him.
He must not know that the man with the scarred face came and opened the door while he was gone. He asked if I was okay, and I assured him I was fine, just a little confused and wanted answers. He told me I needed to get them from Pax.