Page 19 of Wanted

He hesitates before answering, “Chance.”

“Chance…” I draw out, expecting him to give me a last name.

He doesn’t.

I file that piece of information away in case I need to report this guy to the police.

I clear my throat and sit all of the way up. “Well, Chance, um, thank you for rescuing me from whatever that was last night. But I need to get back to town.”

I sit forward and wave a hand at his side when it looks like I’ve lost his attention.

Only once he turns toward me do I say, “I have to go to the police.”

It’s impossible to miss the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel.

“We’re going to Cynthia’s,” he says as if his word is the final say.

“Who is this Cynthia? Is she a police officer?” I ask hopefully.

The frown on his lips speaks to how ridiculous he thinks my question was.

“No.” It comes out rugged.

“Then why are we going to this person?” I insist. “I need to get back to town. I don’t know where you’re taking me but I’d like to go back now.”

His eyes dart between me and the road but he doesn’t respond, not verbally. Silence falls between us again.

“Hello?” I try again when it feels like he’s tuned me out. When I don’t get an answer, I try again.

“Listen, I don’t know what type of game you’re playing, but I’m not a willing participant. If you don’t stop this truck right now, I will jump out,” I threaten.

He doesn’t react or respond. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead, not bothering to even slow down.

I start to reach for the car door. As soon as my hand makes contact with the handle, he’s on me.

My breath hitches as his much larger, stronger hand covers mine.

“Don’t do that.” His breath grazes across the skin of my neck as he’s leaned over my body with one arm, trapping my hand that was once touching the door handle. His other hand manages to continue controlling the steering wheel.

“We’ll be there soon,” is all he says. His gaze burrows into mine. The look doesn’t last long, but it’s as if with that one look he’s asking me to trust him. It’s a ridiculous thought. I don’t know this man beyond his first name. If that’s even his real name.

Then why did you get into a car with him?

“How much longer?” I finally ask.

“Five minutes,” he responds before turning his attention back to the road.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll give you five more minutes.” I concede while also trying to figure out what my next move will be if he’s lying.

Chance

Mate!

My bastard of a wolf screams in my head yet again. I clench my jaw tightly to keep from blurting out for it to shut the fuck up. It’s bad enough being trapped in my truck, her scent licking up all of the air in here.

Now my incessant wolf won’t drop it despite my declaration that I don’t have a fated mate. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be her.

She’s not even a wolf.

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