Page 27 of Wanted

“About my sister?”

He turns back to me but keeps his hands on the steering wheel. He stares, so I repeat the question.

“Are we here to get information about Ashley?”

His lips briefly tighten before he replies, “Something like that.”

He’s out of the truck as soon as the words pass his lips. His movements are so quick, that I don’t have time to even form a response.

Chance is at my car door, opening it and taking me by the arm, while I still process his response.

We’re halfway to the door of the diner before I can spit out, “What does that even mean?”

He doesn’t respond and I feel the tops of my ears heat with anger. This is at least the third time he’s simply ignored my questions by pretending he doesn’t hear me.

“How can I help yo—Chance?!” the plump woman dressed in a yellow and white waitress outfit, bursts out.

“What on Earth are you doing out this way?”

Out this way?

She says it as if he’s not from the area.

“Come on in and have a seat,” she demands before Chance answers her. “Well, hello,” she says with a broad smile, showcasing a gold tooth. “Who do we have here?”

Chance looks over at me, as if remembering I’m with him, even though he’s kept my arm in his hand since we got out of the truck.

“I’m Emery,” I introduce while extending my free arm.

“Nice to meet you, baby. I’m Chelsea. Come on in and have a seat.”

We follow Chelsea toward one of the few empty booths, seated along the window that looks out into a wooded area.

Though I want to get answers about, yet another, side trip Chance has taken me on, I remind myself that we’re in a restaurant full of people. It’s impolite to raise my voice or show too much emotion in public, according to my mother.

I plant a phony smile on my face as Chelsea drops two glasses of water and menus in front of us before leaving us alone.

“Can you please tell me what we’re doing here?” I whisper across the table at Chance. “Is this going to help me find my sister?”

“I have some business to—” He cuts himself off and peers out of the window.

The suddenness of his movement alarms me. I peer at his profile for a beat. His square jaw is rigid, tight and he’s as still as a statue as he stares out. I, too, look out of the window, following his gaze.

Yet, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. All I can make out are trees. A bird or two flies from one tree to the next. Nothing at all that catches my attention.

Chance, however, must not feel the same way. The way he stares, almost glaring, out of the window, you would think an army or something were about to storm the diner.

Perhaps, he’s just stalling for time, to ignore me. I’m not about to let that happen.

“What were you saying?” I finally ask to get back to the conversation at hand.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even flinch.

I reach across the table to tap his arm, but Chance is lightning quick.

Before I can touch his sleeve, his much larger hand seizes mine, trapping it to the table. My heartbeat ramps up from his sudden movement. It’s as if he’s coming out of some sort of trance.

He turns his head back to me, his eyes meeting mine.

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