Chapter Three #2
“Stop it.” John barks the words. It’s hard not to take his attitude personally. I mean, clearly the guy doesn’t want me around. Bums me out, to be honest, but I get it. I’m a natural sidekick, and these dudes are both uber-alphas.
They don’t need someone like me. Rob must be playing at something, and I don’t know what his game is. Given how much trouble I once caused by listening to the wrong person, I don’t trust myself to judge this situation accurately. If I was smart, I’d stay the hell away from both of them.
Guess I can be pretty dumb sometimes.
They share a loaded glance that only ends when Rob needs to jerk the wheel to keep us from veering into a poorly placed pine.
“So, Collins,” Rob says, bringing the car back under control. “That’s a pretty big family name around here, isn’t it?”
Well, fuck. Do I want to get into the whole my uncle is the American Alpha thing? No, I do not. Because that’ll lead to What’s your father’s role? And that is not something I’m going to share with two supernatural superpowers in the middle of nowhere. Keep the answers short, then.
“Yeah. Big name. Big family.”
“And where do you sit on that family tree?”
The fucking doghouse. “Not high enough that they’d pay ransom if you kidnap me.”
That prompts a reluctant chuckle out of John, which makes me feel unexpectedly good. I like making the old wolf laugh. Go figure.
Rob, however, is shooting me sly glances through the rearview mirror, paying just enough attention to the road that we don’t hit anything. “So you’re a Collins, you know computers, and you’re young enough to speak Gen Z or whatever they call people your age.”
“Robin Loxley.” The level of warning in John’s voice should shut me up. Instead, I’m laughing.
“Do I speak Gen Z? I guess so.”
“So—”
John cuts off whatever Rob was about to say. “We are not doing this.”
“Doing what?” I shout. “I might be a sidekick, but I’m right here, damn it, and I can make up my own mind.” What happened to the guy who washed my damn foot? “And I’m sorry if you don’t want me around.”
There’s a moment of silence, like I’ve surprised them by interrupting their argument. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” John says, staring out the passenger window, his voice subdued.
“So tell me.”
He sighs, a soft sound that makes me second-guess taking a stand. I can deal with the old wolf’s anger more easily than the thought that I made him sad. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut and let them fight it out.
“As you heard my friend here say, I am Robin of Loxley, Lord of the Greenwood.” His voice takes on an extra resonance, a layer of power that brings goosebumps across my shoulders.
“Some have called me Robin Hood, but you may call me Rob. I am bound by my vow to the Holy Virgin to defeat the evil one in whatever form he takes. Many years ago, he went by the title of Sheriff of Nottingham. Now he’s known as Leander de Lisle.”
“Wait.” I literally hold up a hand like I’m some kind of nearly naked traffic cop. “You mean the same Leander de Lisle who runs the satellite network and builds exploding rockets and crappy electric cars? He’s the Sheriff of Nottingham?”
“The one.”
John’s silence is eloquent, and I do my best to ignore it. “So, dude’s a trillionaire. He’s got layers and layers of business, legal, and political protection. What are you talking about here? Assassination?”
“If it comes to that.” There’s no laughter in Rob’s voice. No humor at all. He is not fucking with me.
“But first,” he says lightly, “we’re going to make his life as difficult as possible.”
Okay, that could be fun. If he’s joking. If. The shift from stern to sunny has my head spinning. “How’s that going to work?”
“That’s a story for later.” Rob slows the car to turn onto an actual highway. “I have a merry band of men, and everyone does their part. You’ll help Sonny with the tech angle.”
“Or we can drop him off at his home and let him forget this nonsense so he can lead the rest of his life without danger.”
There’s more than a warning there, or at least, I don’t think John would warn me off so strongly if he didn’t . . . like me. At least a little. We crest a small hill, and between the trees, I get a glimpse of the city skyline below us.
Be honest, Marcus. You’re never going to regain David’s trust, not completely. Maybe you need to start something new.
And maybe these two are very powerful and absolutely batshit.
Rob makes a quick lane change, distracting me from my thoughts. “Do you see that car?” he asks abruptly.
“Which one?” I mean, we’re on a freeway with four lanes going in each direction, so there are plenty of choices. Except directly behind us is a black SUV, the very definition of threatening vehicle, and my shoulder bounces off the door when Rob changes lanes again.
The SUV follows.
All their bickering combined didn’t jack my heart rate up as fast as that black vehicle has.
There’s an exit ahead of us, and without using a turn signal or otherwise indicating his intention, Rob cuts across a lane of traffic and takes it, heading onto I-15.
I have no idea if this was the exit he wanted or if he’s just freaking out.
“If you give me the phone,” I say, “I can use the map app to figure out where we need to go.”
The SUV manages to follow us onto the exit, and maybe that’s what convinces him to toss the phone my way.
It takes me a minute to bring up a map because you can’t just ask the app where you are.
It wants to know where you’re going, and right now I don’t know.
I plug in Trajan’s address because that’ll at least give me a visual of our location.
“Take us someplace with lots of houses.” Rob’s words are terse, and John’s head is on a swivel, watching all directions at once.
We’re surrounded by hills and scrubby plant life and space. I expand the map, looking for anything remotely like a subdivision. “Why houses?” I mutter. “Seems like more people could get hurt that way.”
“We’re more likely to get into trouble in a deserted area,” John says, and while I want to ask how much experience they have with being followed, I decide not to push.
“Okay, well, there’s a residential area in a few miles. Get off on the Glen Helen Parkway and keep heading west.”
Rob speeds up. So does the SUV. He slows down. So does our shadow. I undo my seat belt so I can kneel in the seat to get a better look at whoever’s driving the thing. All I see is a dark silhouette where the driver should be.
“Sit down,” John snaps, and if he’d given me a gentle nudge over breakfast, this was a full command. Rolling my eyes because an alpha’s gonna alpha, I do as I’m told.
Fucker.
We speed along, Rob playing games and the SUV following his every move. The vehicle never gets closer than it had on that first surge. Even so, I can’t shake the feeling that someone will start shooting once they have a direct line of sight.
But no bullets fly.
Maybe it’s more of a warning than an actual threat, like there’s someone who just wants Rob and John to know they’re being watched. Which might only make sense if I believe the dude behind the wheel is really Robin Hood.
He continues to duck and swerve, I struggle to hold myself steady, and when we finally get to the Parkway exit, Rob does something fancy involving more than one lane of traffic and manages, somehow, to leave the SUV behind.
Or at least, I don’t see it anymore.
My heart’s still pounding, though, adrenaline pumping, noise buzzing in my ears. “What the actual fuck was that all about?”
We hit a red light, and Rob slows the car to a stop. He shares a long look with John, then shifts in his seat to grin at me. “Either Leander de Lisle has gotten a lot better at tracking or—”
“Or we got chased off the highway by some punk.”
I should really keep my mouth shut, but—“Which do you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” John snarls. “That’s why you need to get the hell away from us.”
It’s the heat in his voice that makes up my mind; he wouldn’t be fighting so hard if he didn’t want me. I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Calm down, John.” Rob’s laughter is wilder than the comment calls for. “You’re more likely to scare him off than our recent tail.” He gives me a snarky look. “We didn’t scare you off, did we?”
I might as well be standing on the end of a diving board. “If the offer’s still open. I’ll come with you.” John makes a sound that’s either disgust or dismay, and I respond with a cocky grin. “Howevuh, I’m not promising anything. I just want to make sure you’re not punking me.”
“What does that mean?” Grinning, Rob shoots a glance at John, who shrugs. I’d explain it to him, but . . . nah. I mean, if part of my appeal is my ability to talk Gen Z, I don’t want to give too much away too soon or they may decide they don’t need me anymore.
And wow, I didn’t know how badly I’ve wanted someone to need me.