Page 8 of Colt
I closed her door then went around. Got in my seat. “You can’t leave my car here.”
“I’m not.” I pulled out my personal cell and called Shep.
“Hey, brother, what’s up?” he asked.
“Hey. Listen, I need you to pick up a silver SUV on Route 43, about a mile from the medical center. Wyoming plate. Keys are sitting on the back tire.”
Shep had been fiddling with engines since he was a little kid, fixing the lawnmower, then moved onto the family tractor and even our snowmobiles. For extra money and summer jobs, he’d go around town fixing what anyone had broken. He’d started his shop two years ago, skipping college for vocational training as a mechanic because his demand was so great. The sheriff’s department even used him for tows.
“Want me to keep it as an impound?” He had a small lot beside his business where vehicles that were evidence or used in a crime were held.
“No. Bring it to my house.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You got it.” He hung up.
She was quiet for a few minutes, then she asked, “How long are you going to keep me?”
I glanced away from the road for a moment, met her dark eyes.
“Forever.”
Her mouth opened in surprise and all I could think of was getting those lips wrapped around my dick.
7
MOLLY
Forever.I stewed on that word all the way to his house. I couldn’t do forever. Couldn’t chance my heart with that kind of word. Anything good that happened to me was destroyed by Missy time and again. It was safer to keep people at arms length, to fuck them in a janitor’s closet or spend the night in their hotel room, then move on.
Handcuffs and forever didn’t sound like moving on.
He’d told whomever was towing my car that was where we were headed. It was ten minutes out of townoff a dirt road. The drive meandered a ways onto the property and to a log cabin settled up on a bluff. There was nothing in every direction but beautiful views covered in snow. I saw a house in the distance and the drive curving up to it like a pale snake through the prairie.
A dually pickup truck–the kind with two wheels on each side in the back instead of one–was parked by the back steps. Colt pulled his patrol SUV in beside it.
“You can take off the cuffs now. It’s not like I can go anywhere,” I muttered, reaching for the button to undo my seatbelt. The sooner we got this–whateverthiswas–over with, the sooner I could get back to my regularly scheduled, unexciting, safe life.
He tipped his head my way. “Not a chance.”
He came around the SUV and opened the door for me.
As I slid from the seat and stood between the vehicle, the open door, and him, I remembered just how big he was. How safe I felt with him. Safe enough to go off to a tucked away room of an event center and have sex.
Now, it felt different. There was no one else around. Perhaps for a half mile or more. I could run. He’d catch me. I could scream. No one would hear.
I was handcuffed.
He had a gun.
I was mad at him.
Yet, I knew he would take care of me.
Was I mental?
Probably.
“Come on.” He took my hand–the other one dangling beside it–and led me to his back door. Using a numbered electric keypad, he unlocked the door and led me into his kitchen.
