Page 41 of On Ice

When we reach my car, I open the trunk and grab a long zip tie, and he scowls. “Is that really necessary?”

I chuff. “With you, yeah. I have a strong feeling it is.”

“What does that mean?”

I arch one brow. “It means I don’t trust you not to try and grab the wheel or the gun while I’m driving.” He actually laughs, which makes me think I wasn’t wrong to worry about that. “Put your hands behind your back,” I order. He turns to face the car again, allowing me to clumsily slip the zip tie onto his wrists. It’s no easy task while holding a gun.

Once his hands are secured, I open the passenger door for him. He smirks as he slides into the car. “Wow, I get to ride up front and everything?”

“Keep mouthing off, and I’ll make you ride in the trunk.” I slam his door shut and move around to the driver’s side. I tuck my gun back into my jacket and slide behind the wheel. The car purrs to life as I back out of the parking spot.

Pulling onto the street, I keep an eye on the rearview mirror, scanning for any cars that might be tailing us. I don’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. My grip tightens on the wheel as I wrestle with how to tell Evan that I think the safest place for him is my family home. He’s not going to like it one bit.

After about five minutes, Evan shifts sideways to study me. “You’ve been driving around in circles.”

“They’ll be watching the hotels and motels,” I mutter, glancing uneasily at the dark alleys we pass.

“Meaning what?”

I sigh. “Meaning we can’t go to a hotel or motel, obviously.”

He makes an impatient sound. “See, you should have just left me at the hospital. At least then I’d have some pain medication, and maybe something to eat and drink.”

I glance over, taking in his bedraggled state. I was so focused on getting him to come with me, I overlooked how thrashed he looks. He’s still covered in mud and there are twigs in his hair. His face and arms are scratched, and he looks exhausted. He’s also still sporting the split lip I gave him in the owner’s box. I feel a pang of guilt that he looks so miserable. Despite how he’ll feel about my decision to take him to my estate, it’s the best thing for him.

“There’s really only one place I can take you that’s safe.” I hesitate, bracing myself for the displeasure I know is coming.

He narrows his eyes. “And where’s that?”

I clear my throat, gripping the wheel tighter. “My family home.”

He goes very still, his face a cold mask. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

It’s clear he thinks this is some kind of trick, but it’s not. My home is a fortress, the one place I know for sure Vincent and the others can’t touch him. But Evan doesn’t know that. Of course, he assumes I want to take him there to kill him. Honestly, if our roles were reversed, I’d think the exact same thing.

“No one will dare come for you there,” I say.

“God, you must think I’m stupid.” His voice wobbles with anger. “Willingly going to your home is like a mouse accepting a sleepover invitation from asnake.”

I can’t help laughing. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, but I really am your only hope of survival.”

He says bitterly, “I find that inconceivable.”

“It’s the truth. And let’s not forget, you did this to yourself, Evan, when you refused to throw the game. You should be happy I’m willing to help you after what you did. You screwed me over too.”

“Good.”

“Is that anyway to speak to your savior?” I taunt.

He crosses his arms. “If you’re my savior, I choose death.”

I sigh and turn the car around, heading in the direction of my family home. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man, and that I want you alive.”

“Liar. You’re just using me. You don’t care if I live or die, other than you need me to get your reputation back in order. You’ve said as much to me already.” He shakes his head and stares out the window. “Why did you have to come into my life?”

“You’re lucky I did. If you’d stop fighting me so hard, I could help you with some of your problems.”

He twists his head toward me, looking wary. “What do you know about my problems?”

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