Page 164 of Forbidden Lessons

“If I’m going to prison, it’s going to be for something a hell of a lot more interesting than kidnapping.”

“Kidnappingandtorture?”

“Hm. Now we’re talking.”

His musing hum makes my stomach flutter, but I try to ignore it. I’m having to ignore a lot of sensations.

Like the rising dread when I realized he was headed toward Ashwood Crossing, a town almost double the size of Agony Hollow.

I know it well.

It’s where I’ve spent the last three years of my life.

On my back, legs spread, apparently.

I thought wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag me back here. All it took was one man and his car.

Thankfully, we’re in a nice part of town. My uncle’s apartment was way on the other side, near the train tracks. Conveniently close to the station and, more importantly, the drug dealers.

There’s a chuckle in Bastian’s voice. “If you think what’s about to happen is torture, then I advise you seek counseling immediately.”

He pulls up outside a row of small businesses alongside the main road, parking so effortlessly, I’m low key convinced the car did it for him. But then he wouldn’t have swung his arm around the back of my chair and given me a wink as he reversed, I guess.

“Guess you’ll have to go back to private practice, then, Professor.”

He chuckles as he gets out of the car, throwing his hands up when I’m already out my side before he can open mine. “Are you always this independent?”

“I try.” I sniff, hands on my waist. “Now you have ten seconds to tell me what we’re doing here, or I’m screaming.”

There’s a moderate amount of traffic flowing past us. A few people walking past on their own mysterious errands. Maybe that’s why Bastian finally caves and holds up a hand.

“Honestly, I thought you’d have guessed by now.”

My gaze follows his arm—his strong, perfectly toned arm—to the sign above the shop a few yards away.

Laramie

It could have been anything from a bistro to an antique store. But if I had to take a wild guess, it’s a boutique.

The mannequins in the window are kinda a dead giveaway.

“Bastian!”

But Professor Rooke is already heading for the shop. I hurry after him, trying to catch hold of his arm, but he’s just too quick, pulling open the security door and stepping inside before I can stop him. An ozone-tainted gust of wind toys with my clothes, whipping my hair in my face as I turn to look back at the car.

Yeah, I can run.

But where the hell to?

I don’t have any money, so I can’t call a cab. And I left my phone in the Land Rover, so I can’t even call anyone.

Who’d I call, anyway? Melissa? Would she drive all the way to Ashwood Crossing to come fetch me, only to find out it’s because I had a hissy fit when Professor Rooke tried to buy me a dress for the gala?

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I hiss, still trailing after him like a lost puppy.

“About what?” He raises his hand, and one of the store clerks looks up from a rack of dresses she was busy sorting through.

She beams when she sees us and hurries over. “Afternoon. Something I can help with?”

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