8. Misely
eight
Misely
W hat an asshole. A total fucking asshole. Wasn’t it bad enough that he literally kidnapped me, made me lie to my best friend, and planned on ruining everything that she had worked for? Did he really need to be such a dick on top of it?
First, he’d cuffed me to a bed. And not even in the fun way. Then he’d thrown a little fit about me needing my nighttime essentials. And now he was pounding on the bathroom door like a lunatic, because apparently, I ‘take too long.’
“If you wanted to be out of here at a decent time, you should have woken me up sooner, jackass,” I called out, inspecting my hair as it lay straight over my shoulders before wrapping it in a claw clip. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it up or down, but either would look cute with the cat eye eyeliner I’d chosen. The bruise on my cheek could have been strategically covered with some orange and green concealers, but I chose to leave it, letting it peek through my foundation like a beacon. Reminding the perpetrator of what he’d done. If he had a soul at all, he might actually feel guilty. Good.
“I hadn’t realized that you were going to need two hours to get ready to sit in a car, ” he ground out, his heavy timbre vibrating against the thin door, and I felt my lips twitch with satisfaction.
Ultimately deciding to keep my hair up because I liked the way it showed off my assortment of earrings, I threw open the door. “Don’t be so dramatic.” I didn’t miss how his eyes widened when I stepped out. “It was an hour and twenty minutes. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Talon’s eyes roamed over me and I let myself bask in the attention. I couldn’t help myself. I craved this. I knew I looked good; it was something I strived for and made sure I achieved. With everything I’d already endured in the last twenty-four hours, I needed to be in control of something, and if how I looked was all it could be, so be it. It didn’t matter who was looking at me, or why they were looking, I liked knowing that I looked my best when they did. Nobody—kidnapper or otherwise—was going to take that away from me.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Satisfaction vanishing, I blinked, my veins going icy. “Excuse me?”
“It is twenty-five degrees outside.”
My arms crossed over my chest, drawing his eyes back down my frame again but his expression didn’t change. It was still stuck on baffled.
“And what’s your point?”
“You’re going to freeze to death.”
My eyes rolled to the back of my skull. He was, of course, referring to my adorable striped knit crop top. In my defense—it was a long sleeve turtleneck. I’d paired the maroon and chocolate top perfectly with a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a statement belt, and platform boots. My puffer coat would tie the entire look together and provide me with the warmth the shirt lacked. I was proud of the ensemble I’d created, but the pure bewilderment on the man’s face was rather irksome.
“If this outfit is somehow the reason I meet my untimely end, at least I’ll die looking hot,” I said, popping the gum in my mouth and strutting past with a confidence I didn’t actually feel. “Just because I am a captive, doesn’t mean I have to look like one.”
The car was like a silent prison of awkward tension. Talon didn’t speak, didn’t play the radio, and didn’t acknowledge my existence whatsoever. Like the absolute asshole that he is, he refused to stop for fresh hot coffee, instead insisting the coffee he’d acquired for me at the motel’s front desk was ‘good enough.’ It was cold and tasted like mud.
He’d also already eaten by the time I’d woken, and when I mentioned I was hungry, he’d tossed me a bag filled with random gas station crap. Flavorless tortilla chips and a mild beef stick? I dropped the bag to the floor of the car and muttered something along the lines of, ‘I’ll just wait for our next stop’, making him grunt and double check the GPS.
Hours had passed, and my stomach was growling. Loudly. And my leg was bouncing rapidly, a sensation like ants crawling under my jeans making me anxious. I hated road trips. My body needed to move or I’d become restless, and hours spent in a car without any wiggle room did not allow for ample movement. When I had asked, Talon refused to tell me why we were driving instead of flying. With nothing else to do but let my thoughts wander, I imagined it probably had something to do with not wanting to tip off the federal agents protecting Birdie and Milo.
I cleared my throat but Talon’s eyes did not waiver from straight ahead. We were still in Iowa according to the GPS that was unnecessarily loud in the silent vehicle, and like any other Midwestern state, the weather was unpredictable. The weatherman could tell you to expect a clear and sunny day, but it’d downpour. You could be prepared for a blizzard but have highs in the fifties.
Today, it had settled on intermittent flurries, but from the way Talon drove—his speed steady but his eyes never leaving the road—you’d think it was coming down hard enough to warrant a road closure. Finally, fed up and bored senseless, I groaned.
“Can we please stop for food? We’ve been on the road for forever and I’m starving.”
He snorted but didn’t say answer me.
“Are you a dog? Do you not know how to use your words? I asked a question.”
His nostrils flared and his brows narrowed, indicating my barb had hit its mark. “Just because you ask a question, that does not mean you are entitled to an answer.”
My palms landed in my lap with an audible smack. “Well, I’m hungry.”
Again, he became fixated on the road as if I hadn’t spoken at all. Irritation boiled to the surface, making me twist in my seat to face him fully. “Did you hear me? I said I’m hungry. We’ve been driving forever, and I haven’t eaten anything today. It’s bad enough that you have me crammed in this shitty car with no music or podcasts or anything to entertain me.
“Not to mention the very reason you’ve got me crammed in this car is completely fucked up to begin with. The least you could do is pull over and let me get something edible to eat. Unless you’re looking for me to starve to death so you can dump my body and be done with it. I listen to a lot of true crime, it wouldn’t be too far off. You’re already halfway through the standard serial killer to-do—”
Talon’s gruff voice cut me off, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “We’ve been on the road for exactly an hour and a half, I’d hardly call that forever. Your entertainment is not my problem. If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to duct tape your mouth.”
“We’ve been over this, dickhead.” My head cocked to the side with a smug grin. “You don’t have any duct tape.”
“Whatever, there are plenty of other ways to shut you up.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
For the first time, Talon’s eyes drifted from the road to look at me. They roved over my body from head to foot, lingering on any exposed skin, before climbing back up and settling on my face. His eyes were hooded when they reached mine, and I mentally cursed myself for challenging him, a flush pinking my cheeks.
My breath stuttered silently when his lips parted to answer, the restlessness in my bones suddenly at a fever pitch. And then they stretched broadly across his face, the heat vanishing from his eyes.
“I’m sure if we toss out all that bullshit you packed, you’d fit nicely in the trunk.”