Eighteen
Bay
The other man turned his back and walked over to the bar to get himself another drink. I stared at him, then back at Hale, who was holding open the door and waiting on me with a furious expression. I did not want to go anywhere with him. But it didn’t seem like I got a choice in the matter.
He didn’t want me going with him either, yet he was obeying this man, which I found odd. He didn’t have a boss if he owned a distillery. Right?
Standing up slowly, I considered begging this man to let me go home.
“Look, Snow, I got shit to do. I don’t have time for this. He’s not going to change his mind. Let’s go,” Hale barked.
The other man didn’t even glance back when he replied, “Better listen to him. You’re at his mercy.”
This nightmare was just getting worse.
Taking the first step in his direction, I wished more than anything that I could go back and not get in his car. I’d be home right now. Safe.
A third man appeared at the open door, older than me but maybe slightly younger than the two other men in the room.
This one had dark blond hair pulled back in a messy bun and a short, well-trimmed beard.
His tanned skin was covered in tattoos—at least, his bare arms were. He looked from me to Hale.
“What did I miss?” he drawled, sounding amused.
“Linc will fill you in,” Hale told him.
The blond man shot me one more glance. “This is gonna be entertaining, isn’t it?” he said. “You look so fucking annoyed.”
“Let ’em go,” the man who must be Linc said while taking his drink back to his desk. “You’re late anyway.”
“I had priorities,” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah, well, I have those, too, but here I sit,” Linc shot back.
The guy shrugged, still appearing amused. “All right, fine, I’ll wait to find out the reason Hale looks ready to murder someone. Normally, he’s in a better mood when he’s got a young piece of ass with him.”
“Jesus, Luther,” Hale muttered.
The third man chuckled, then sauntered over to the bar.
“Out,” Hale told me, pointing the way as if I didn’t know what out meant.
These people were all crazy.
“Oh wait! She’s knocked up. That’s it!” Luther called out.
Hale froze, then turned to look back at him. “No, but if she were, it wouldn’t be mine,” he said in a tone that was insulting. As if the thought of making a baby with me was revolting. Not that I wanted him to touch me, but still.
Asshole.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Luther said, then went back to pouring his drink.
“Stevie got you reading Alice in Wonderland to her again?” Linc asked in a much softer tone than I’d heard him use before.
“Yep,” Luther said, grinning. “Third time this month. Although she likes it better when Lace reads Alice’s lines.”
Turning from them, I walked out the door. I couldn’t imagine that man reading a children’s book. It seemed so very odd.
The woman who had let us into the house was waiting with a black T-shirt in her hands. She held it out to me, looking apologetic. “Here you go,” she said. “The bathroom is right—”
“She can put it on in the car,” Hale snapped, steering me down the hallway.
I had no choice but to go with him. He said nothing as we went back the way we had come earlier. I held the shirt close to my chest, thankful I’d have something to wear that I wouldn’t have to hold together. We reached the front doors, and he swung open one, then stepped back for me to exit first.
I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his scowl. I was mad too. He was the one who had brought me here. None of this was my fault.
Stopping in the doorway, I glared at him. “I do not understand why I can’t go home.”
“Doesn’t matter what you understand.”
“I have no contact with Harland.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic sneer. “And I say you’re full of shit.”
I wanted to scream. This was all ridiculous. What had Harland done to these people who wanted him dead? That reminder made me shiver, and I walked outside into the night, hoping someone would start looking for me soon.
The silence on the drive to Hale’s house only gave me time to create scenarios in my head as to what was going to happen to me.
Each of them getting more terrifying than the next.
I wanted to ask him if Linc had meant the comment about wanting Harland dead and why, but I knew better.
Hale wasn’t going to tell me anything. He was convinced I was in on whatever Harland was mixed up with.
The time on his dash said it was after nine.
I hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.
Tomorrow night at the latest, the fact that I was missing would be noticed.
There was security footage at the airport.
Dan would be a witness. They’d be able to find Hale Carver.
He’d said so in that office; if they googled him, it would tell them about his distillery.
I just had to survive until I was found. Keep my head down, not piss him off, and get through it.
The truck slowed at a security gate much like the one Linc’s mansion had around it. Did Hale also live in an insanely massive home? I glanced over as he clicked something beside him, and the gate began to slowly swing open.
I hadn’t asked what distillery he owned. I knew nothing about whiskey or what kind might be made in Mississippi. I thought it was all made in Tennessee. Or perhaps that was just Jack Daniel’s.
The driveway was even longer than Linc’s was, going on for almost a mile, lined by oak trees, before arriving at a smaller house but still mansion-sized.
It was more appealing actually. It reminded me of an elaborate home on a ranch.
Instead of the wide staircase leading up to the double doors at Linc’s, this one had a covered walkway with rich woodwork and stacked stone pillars.
Hale drove past it and around to the side that had been hidden from view.
A garage appeared, and one of the four doors had already been opened for us to drive inside.
“Who lives with you?” I asked hesitantly.
I hadn’t thought he was married, but what about a girlfriend or fiancée? I knew nothing about him. All he had told me was probably a lie.
“No one,” he said. “How I like it.”
My mouth dropped open. I went from looking at the other three vehicles in the four-car garage to him. “Are you serious? But whose are those?” I asked.
“Mine,” he clipped and cut the engine. He glanced at me with disinterest, then opened his door to get out.
“Why do you have four vehicles?” I asked incredulously, getting out on the passenger side, still having to clutch my blazer closed. He’d not given me a chance to put on the shirt I’d been given.
“Five,” he replied, walking away. “There’s a Harley on the other side of the F-450.”
Oh. That didn’t answer my question.
Hurrying to catch up so I wasn’t left in the massive garage, I bit back the other questions I wanted to ask. He clearly didn’t want to talk to me. Not that I liked hearing his voice either, but, well, I was curious.
“Go ahead and put the shirt on,” he said.
“I’m not taking this blazer off in front of you again.” I hoped he wouldn’t make me.
“I have no desire to see your tits again. My back is turned. Do it.”
I hated this man.