Chapter 8 – Ferrin
FERRIN
This village… isn’t the nicest. It’s a lot of closed-up shops, tired-looking storefronts, and people loitering aimlessly about that have my senses on alert.
Honestly, I couldn’t have mapped this out any better.
She’ll be running home to Mommy by nightfall.
I’ll have my necklace and plan my strategy to get the tiara back.
For all I know, it’s at the cottage. I can’t think of a more perfect place to hide something you don’t want anyone else to find.
Like this girl.
Genevieve is stoic as we walk through the center of town, even as she takes in everything around her item by item. We’re drawing curious eyes that I wish we weren’t. She keeps making noises and doesn’t know how to carry herself. It makes us stick out even more.
We pass a lamppost that’s littered with fliers, and she pulls me to an abrupt stop.
“That’s you,” she whispers, her eyes darting around to make sure no one overheard. “Isn’t it? I mean, that’s your name.”
I chuckle when I see it. It’s the same drawing of me that they love to use, and though I look like garbage in it, I don’t mind in the least. “Yeah, but it doesn’t look like me, does it?” It’s of me with a large nose, round face, glasses, and bad teeth.
“I suppose not, but wow, I guess you were serious about your life of crime stuff.” She squints at the paper that’s seen more than a few rainfalls and isn’t the easiest to read. “There’s a reward for your capture. And it says you’re dangerous.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
She peers at me. “I could turn you in.”
I grin. “And chat with the police? You’re the one who has the necklace and the gun, not me.
What story will you give them about why you have no ID and have been living in a hideaway cottage all your life?
They’ll call your mother. You know that.
That’ll likely arrest you for aiding and abetting a known fugitive. ”
She scowls and turns back to the paper, only to snag on the one above me. “Who’s that?”
“The former prime minister.”
“Why is there a red slash through his face? Is he not a good man?”
“Not particularly. He’s also dead. He killed the former queen and tried to kill the king and his new wife, who was his fiancée at the time. He fell out of a window while he was trying to kill the king.”
She gasps, her mouth dropping, and I can see the worry in her eyes.
She’s determined to see this through, and I believe her, but she’s having doubts, and I can’t blame her, given where we are right now.
Maybe her mother isn’t wrong, and the rest of us have simply grown indifferent to all the fucked-up shit we see around us.
“We need to find a place to stay and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
She swallows and nods.
I grab her hand and don’t let go because there are two men up the block behind us, and I don’t like how they’ve been looking at her. This is when having the gun or at the very least the knife would be useful. I might have to broker that one.
But the feel of her small, soft hand, the touch of her skin against mine, is unexpected. Pleasant even. Probably because I’ve never held anyone’s hand before. She must be having the same thought as she glances down at our pressed palms.
“Oh. An inn.” She takes our linked fingers and points at the sign over a building up the road. “Should we do that first?”
“Likely,” I agree. I need a drink, and I needed it sixteen hours ago, but I also don’t want to have to search for something after I’ve had that drink and a few extras.
She steps in front of me, her chin tilted up toward me, but movement out of the corner of our eyes alerts us both, and silently we head toward the inn. I don’t know what she was going to say, and I’m probably the better for it.
The inn is shockingly quaint on the inside, and it isn’t until we walk in and look around that I realize the issue. My necklace is back at her impenetrable fortress. If we get two rooms, she could run out on me in a flash. One second thought or a call from her mother is all it would take.
“We’re going to have to share a room,” I tell her.
She blanches and draws back. “Why?”
“It’s suspicious for a man and a woman to be traveling together and not stay in the same room.”
Her lips purse. “I could be your sister.”
“But it’ll look better if you’re my girl, and truth be told, I don’t trust you enough to allow you to sleep on your own. You’re using me, but I’m using you in return, and I intend to get my necklace.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
“Trust me, princess, it’s not what I want either.”
She huffs, her hand detangling from mine. “I can get my own room. I have money.”
I smirk. “Do you have ID? A credit card?”
With a frown, she shifts her weight. “No.”
“Then you’re my girl tonight, aren’t you? Relax, I’m not going near your pretty virtue.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“Then we won’t have a problem.”
And I’m not just telling her that. I’m telling my dick who has other notions as well.
I walk up to the desk before she argues further. “Hello, we’d like a room for the night. Two beds if you’ve got them.” I cup my hand around my mouth as if I’m telling him a secret. “She snores.” I wink at him.
He doesn’t even crack a smile. “We only have single beds here.”
Not what I was hoping to hear. “I guess I’ll have to suffer through.”
“That’ll be a hundred and fifty euros. We’ll need a card to have for incidentals and see your ID, sir,” Mr. Personality informs me.
I slip my ID that matches my card, and he runs it through without an issue and hands me a metal key with a plastic number tag hanging from it. It’s like something out of the Bates Motel, and hopefully our stay in this dodgy little town doesn’t end the same way.
“Come on, darlin’.” I take her hand again and walk us upstairs.
“I don’t snore.”
I twist to her. “How would you know?”
“I just know.”
“As someone who slept in the other room from you last night, I disagree.”
The blush on her cheeks and downward twist of embarrassment on her lips nail me with a pang of guilt.
“I’m teasing you. You don’t snore. You’re as quiet as a church mouse.”
“A what?”
We walk down the hall to our room. “It’s an expression. I said it in the hopes we wouldn’t have to share a bed.”
I unlock the door for us. It isn’t much of a room. A queen bed, a chair in the corner, two nightstands, and a small washroom with a standing shower, a toilet, and one sink.
That’s it.
There’s hardly any floor space.
“We’re not sharing a bed.” It’s the nervous whisper of a virgin who, in addition to being told the world is evil, was told all men are too and will rape her given the chance.
I sigh. The last thing I want to fucking do is sleep on that floor. I’ve slept in worse places. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s not as though I’m anxious to return to that point in my life.
She’s staring at the bed, chewing hard on her lip like she’s going to swallow the thing.
I love women. I love fucking them. When they suit my needs and bugger off right after without asking for more or getting clingy.
I’ve never shared a bed with one. I never stayed a moment after the condom came off, and I’ve never fucked anyone with the lights on or without some sort of disguise.
I was in a strict all-boys school for orphans, and it was run by nuns who never let a young female into the building.
I didn’t lose my virginity until I left Ireland, and by that point, I’d already killed my father—and one of the bullies from my orphanage—and stepped into my persona as Rhys Stephan.
And yes, I jerked off to thoughts of her last night.
I’m more than aware of that—and the fantasy I had.
She’s young and beautiful and smells fucking fantastic.
With that, the thought of sharing a bed, of being next to her all night, is not high on my fun list. It actually sounds like a fresh form of hell.
But I’ll take it over the floor.
She’s not losing her virginity in a place like this, and it won’t be to a bloke like me. I may be a monster with morals that tend to run black more than gray, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a line or a limit. The only thing I steal without consent is jewels and the occasional soul.
She’s the sort of girl who should get princes. Nice guys. Men who won’t use her and disregard her. That isn’t me.
“Princess, I plan to sleep tonight, not touch you. I think we can manage sharing the bed.”
She grows frantic, her hands waving wildly in the air. “I don’t trust you. You said I shouldn’t trust you. That you lied and—”
I turn to her and grab her shoulders to stop her tantrum.
“That doesn’t mean I assault unwilling and unwanting women either.
Because that I don’t do. Ever. Not to mention, you’re far from my type, princess.
You made this deal with me, not the other way around.
I would have happily already been on my way.
But if you’re that nervous about sharing a bed and want to—”
“Stop! I’m not going back!”
She’s about ready to rip her hair out, and I’m at my end with sore feet, lack of food, and proper hydration.
I jostle her shoulders before I release her. “Then relax about the bed.”
I toss my knapsack down, then take her bag off her shoulder. With my eyes on hers, I unzip the front pocket where she put my weapons and slip them out, placing them on the bed before us.
“Knife or gun?” I ask her.
“What?”
“I’m not walking out of here unarmed. My preference is the gun, but I’ll deal with the knife.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re giving me the option?”
Yes, because I’m not taking these weapons and leaving her here alone in this town. Not to mention all my other reasons that I’m stuck with her for the foreseeable future.
“Gun.”
“Good girl. Let’s get something to eat and, if we can, do a bit of shopping. I could use some extra clothes and things.”
Then we’ll figure out the one-bed situation.