Page 16 of Beautiful Secrets
“Leave it.” I have an overwhelming urge to cough because of the deep voice I’m affecting, but I force it back with ruthless willpower.
The ringing stops, but a few seconds later it starts up again.
“Listen, I need to—”
“Where were you going?”
Cole pauses for a second. His eyes are fixed on the rearview mirror again, and there is a frown growing between his dark eyebrows.
I tug the hoody forward a little. “Answer me,zhopa,or I’m—”
“Putting a bullet in me?” he cuts in. “Aye, don’t need to remind me who’s got the gun.”
A touch of pride blossoms in my chest.
Never would have thought I would be in someone’s backseat holding a gun on them. It feels…empowering.
“Where were you going?” I ask again, pushing the gun a little harder.
Dark green eyes search my reflection in the rearview mirror, not quite locking onto my eyes. Which I am grateful for, because I am already feeling a strange tightness through my body. It might be adrenaline…but it could also be the fact that this Scot is the most handsome man I have ever seen.
Thick, dark lashes frame intelligent eyes above a strong nose and a wide, expressive mouth. He needs a shave, but even so, he looks dashing in his dark suit and white dress shirt. He is even wearing a navy tie.
What the hell is a man like this doing meeting with my father? He looks like a handsome investment broker or something, not a criminal.
He runs a hand through his shock of black hair, eyes going back to the road.
“My hotel,” he says.
I blink, purse my lips. Oh, yes, I asked him where he was going.
“Is it close to the airport?”
“Yeah,” he says without hesitating. “Why?”
“Keep driving.” My hand is starting to cramp because of how tightly I am holding the gun, but I am loathe to lower it even a little. “If they call back, you act normal.”
“Could you ease up on the gun a little? You’re putting a crick in my neck.”
I move the gun away before I can catch myself. It was a reasonable request, after all.
“Are they meeting up with you?”
“Afraid so,” he says.
“Tell them you changed your mind or something.”
There is a beat of silence. I realize I forgot to make my voice sound all deep. “Do it!” I growl.
“Sure thing,” Cole says. He presses a button on the car’s console. A second later, a thick Scottish accent fills the car. It is almost impossible to understand what the man on the other end of the line is saying.
“You alright, mate? Almost drove into your arse back then.”
“Yeah. Dropped my fucking smoke.”
“Did Vassie call you?”
“Aye.”
