Page 39 of Claim

His eyes narrow. “Two or three hours. Not long. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“What? That’s forever! Is there anywhere closer?” I stick out my lower lip. Maybe that will entice him to a better location.

Now that I’m a ‘Mrs’, I kinda want to see what he’s hiding.

His finger comes to a sharp point. “Stay. Here.”

“Fine.” I slump against the seat. I just want to get to where we’re going.

But I know he needs to make sure we’re safe. It’s both a turn on, and frustrating.

This dress is just so damn uncomfortable, and I have to pee.

The cab starts to cool, bringing goosebumps to my bare arms.

I hope he’s okay?

Five more minutes.

Geez, where is he? I’m bouncing in the seat from a full bladder, running my palms over my shoulders.

No, screw this.

I jump out of the truck and dig into the back to see if there’s anything I can use.

At least there’s some paper towels and a few bottles of water so I can finally find some relief from all the coffee I drank this morning.

Sitting back in the chilly passenger’s seat is boring. He’s been gone forever.

Where the heck is he?

My fingers are getting cold. And, of course, he has the keys.

Maybe I can find him, get them to warm up?

Yes, I like that idea.

The frost hangs heavy on the trees, but it sparkles in the mid-morning sun. It’s much nicer out here than the dreary apartment I lived in with Mom.

God, that hurts to think about her.

I should stay off the road, in case Ivan’s men come through.

What was that noise?

Hurrying to a thick clump of bushes, I squat down to watch. It might be a deer.

Or a bear.

Oh shit, what if it’s a bear?

I should get back to the car.

Just as I stand, a thick hand lashes out and grabs me roughly around the wrist.

Flipping on my heel, I’m caught staring up into my husband’s masked face. His dark eyes are pinpricks as he glares at me.

“I thought—” He takes a deep breath. “—I told you to stay at thefucking truck?”

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