Page 63 of Smolder

What?

“Why?” I asked.

There seemed to be no logical reason why he couldn’t tell me our location.

“Because it’s safer this way.”

Safer?

“Okay, I’m going to need you to make sense. This entire situation is confusing. Where is my dad?”

“I know you’re confused, and I’m sorry about that. This is just how it has to be. I will answer all your questions as soon as we get to the cabin.”

What cabin? Was I dreaming? Still asleep on the plane, curled up with his arms around me? That was what I hoped was happening. I wanted to be back there, where things had made sense.

“Where is my dad, Amory?!” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“You don’t know? How do you not know? We were going to Miami, and from the looks of things, we are nowhere near Miami—or even Florida for that matter.”

The corner of his lips tugged up slightly, as if he wanted to smile. There was no humor here. Nothing to smile about.

“I never knew.”

Not what I had expected him to say. I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding or something.

“Amory, you’re starting to scare me.”

He reached over and placed his hand over one of my fisted ones. “You never have to be scared of me. I’d never let anything or anyone hurt you.”

The fierceness in the way he’d said it would have been sexy if I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. I had to calm down and think. This was Amory. The guy who had sent his grandmother to stay with mine. Gotten my Grams into a facility meant for the wealthy for free. He sent us food. Had my Vespa fixed. Bailed my dad out of jail. He hadn’t done all that for some master plan.

“If that is the case, then why can’t you tell me where we are and why?”

His thumb brushed over my hand in a caress. “I will. Just a little farther. I’ll tell you everything.”

Okay, fine. He wanted us to get to our location. I could wait. He would make all of this make sense. I was being dramatic. That was all.

Opening my hand, I let him thread his fingers through mine. This was good. I needed this. My tension eased, and I looked out the window at the wild outdoors we seemed to be driving through.

Was this Colorado? Wyoming? It was farther north than Tennessee. It had to be. It was cold. Much colder than a Southern October.

My mind played through several scenarios as we drove, taking a handful of turns on more dirt roads. He didn’t say anything, and I decided that maybe silence was best. There was something he needed to tell me, and I wanted to demand he tell me now.

Finally, we slowed, and he veered down a narrow path as branches brushed against the sides of the Hummer.

Where in the heck was he taking me?

My thoughts went back to all the criminal televisions shows I’d seen in the past, and I tensed up. No. Amory wasn’t going to murder me in the woods.

We came out of the trees, and a small A-frame cabin sat in the middle of a clearing. I looked around, and there was nothing anywhere else in sight. Just the building. Amory pulled up to it and cut off the engine.

“We’re here,” he told me.

I looked at him, and he flashed me a smile that reminded me he wasn’t a serial killer.

“I’ll come around and get you out. It’s high,” he told me before climbing out of the Hummer.

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