Page 16 of Taken By the Bounty Hunter

“You’re overreacting, Joaquin. I’ve got this handled. No one followed us. No one is gonna bother us.”

My bossy housemate turns to leave.

“If you’re stealing Sonja, make sure you give her a bath at least. And get my go-bag out of the trunk.”

I don’t know if he heard me, but he’s out the door, muttering as he leaves.

“What did he say?” Georgie asks, watching him go.

“Probably the same thing he complains about every other day. Stuff about me being a reckless, stubborn asshole.”

“You don’t have to put up with that abuse.”

I look at Georgie and chuckle. “Sure I do. He’s my best friend.”

Chapter Five

Georgie

Finally. He has me.

We’re together.

And I’m safe.

Am I confused about who Sonja is? Yes. Am I overwhelmed and full of questions? Also yes. But overall, no regrets.

I’m not the only one who has questions.

“Georgie, why didn’t you try to call me sooner?” Jefferson asks.

“The plan was to wait,” I explain. “Curly said something big was happening, so I tried to be patient. But then, nothing did. And I couldn’t take it anymore. So I took a stab at escaping again, and it worked.”

He doesn’t like my vague answer but lets it go for now.

“Why do you look so pale? And you’re thinner than I remember.”

I pout. “You think I look bad?”

Jefferson combs his fingers through my hair, keeping one hand firmly on my hip. “No, Georgie. You’re perfect. But I need to know, what did they do to you when you went back?”

I don’t answer; I just look away and twist my hair around my finger.

“Tell me. What has been going on for the last month?”

I’m afraid I’ll start to shake again if I talk about it.

Even more than that, I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I tell him the truth.

Jefferson has this energy about him. Not a temper, not that I’ve seen, anyway. But a lethal darkness. A person who easily blurs the line between right and wrong. The way he smoothly lied to my dad, I almost believed that Jefferson was store security. The thought of what he could do with that power makes me shiver. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s a good shiver or a bad shiver, which is deeply unsettling.

I shouldn’t be having the good kind of shivers right now. I should be processing everything that’s happened to me.

“Nothing. It’s been very boring,” I say. This is not a lie.

If I tell him the whole truth, he could seek vengeance, but that’s not what I want. Not yet. It’s not the time.

I don’t want him to explode at finding out that I’ve been in the polygamist version of solitary confinement.

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