Chapter 9
Abigail had been in her fair share of awkward car rides. For half her career, she had been a glorified adult babysitter for rich and ignorant businessmen traveling on company funds to foreign countries. There were, however, very few more awkward than this one.
She sat silently, as did the other three passengers, though she was the only one not glaring. She couldn’t see the driver but assumed he was also glaring. It can’t be fun being the guy who had to have his back to all this anger. For such a small and nondescript car, it felt remarkably roomy inside, with four seats set out so all the passengers could see one another.
She could actually hear Byron’s teeth grinding as he glared at the unfairly good-looking guy in an ill-fitting suit. He wasn’t quite as broad as Byron, but he was almost beautiful. Clear skin, a strong jawline, and perfectly coiffed hair that gave Abigail shine envy even in the poorly lit vehicle. The juxtaposition of the two men glaring at each other could have made Byron look big and brutish, but as she took in the mesmerizing way the muscle in his jaw flexed as he—
Abigail realized she was staring at Byron like he was some kind of snack and jolted herself back to reality. Was she really just objectifying him while they were being kidnapped? She scolded herself mentally, though she had to admit that it didn’t seem like they were being kidnapped, per se, but she was definitely there against her better judgment, if not against her will. Didn’t stop Byron from looking like an enraged gladiator—
“Well,” she said, loudly breaking the silence like a champagne bottle on a stone floor, “Isn’t this cozy? Would one of you boys do me the courtesy of telling me what the hell is going on?”
Byron had the good grace to look ashamed for half a second before his attitude took over again.
“Yeah, John, where’s your manners?”
“Where are my manners, I think you mean,” the one apparently called John said, “and I don’t need to have manners when I have every right to be furious with you.”
Byron snorted, “Yeah, all right, smart mouth. Drop the holier than thou mask. It makes me want to punch you.”
John let out a chuckle that earned him at least three more ‘annoying jerk’ points in Abigail’s book, but he did seem to relax a touch.
“Fine, but you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do—it’s a good thing we have such a long drive ahead of us.”
Panic spiked in Abigail’s chest. “A long drive? Why? Where to?”
He turned what she thought was probably supposed to be his most charming smile to her and she saw a spark of something in his eyes. Entertainment, maybe? Amusement? She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger.
“Oh no, don’t you try to pretty boy me,” she said. “You rock up, flash a gun, and announce we’re going on a long drive—that doesn’t cut it. Spit it out.”
The charming grin gave way to a genuine one and it was followed by a melodic laugh that was disconcertingly pretty in the harsh circumstances of their conversation. Did this guy go to school to be a fairytale villain or something!?
“Wow, Byron, you have found yourself a live wire,” John said, “I think I understand how she got you wrapped around her little finger.”
“You watch your mouth,” Byron said, his voice low, “be very careful what you say about her.”
The rumbling tenor of his voice sent a surprising electric shock through Abigail’s body. She had never found the whole ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ thing appealing, but now… she swallowed hard.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m a saint,” she said, trying to bluster her way through this insane conversation, “now, will you just tell me where you’re taking us? What happened to our driver?”
“Your driver has been informed you will not be needing his services,” John said, the laughter still in his face. “And calm down, I’m taking you to one of our local offices so we can figure out just how badly the security detail messed up.”
“No,” Byron said, “you’re not. You can take me wherever you want, but don’t drag Abby into this.”
“Hey!” Abigail said, “neither of you get to decide where I’m going!”
“Oh, she’s got you there,” John said triumphantly, and Abigail caught that tone in his voice again.
“Yeah, I do, now tell me why Bee was in that house back there?”
The instant closing down of John’s face into an unreadable mask would have been disconcerting on its own but paired with the surprised shout from Byron, Abigail flinched—she might have played her hand too soon. She didn’t even know if it was Bee in that window, but a reaction like that? Surely.
“I will not be commenting on the identity of anyone who may or may not have been at that location.”
“Bee was there?” Byron asked, turning his gaze on her.
“Um,” she stuttered, “maybe I saw someone in the top window, and it looked like her… but I may have been projecting.”
“Hah!” Byron puffed out a laugh. “You need to work on your big and scary ‘stay away from the windows and doors’ speech, Johnny!”
Even in all her years putting up with, managing, and de-escalating bro-fights on the job, she seriously doubted she had ever been this furious and annoyed. It reminded her of the way the girls would pick at each other for no reason, just to get a reaction.
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” she said, realizing, “that’s it, isn’t it?”
The two men looked at her, confused looks on both their faces.
“You two—you’re brothers.”
They glanced at each other before John cocked his head towards her and seemed to properly look at her for the first time since they’d gotten in the car.
“Huh… you’re pretty switched on,” he said, like it was some kind of grand compliment.
Byron just looked away, rolling his eyes, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face as he did so.
“Gee, thanks,” she said to John, “I’m right, though?”
It seemed like John was waiting for Byron to take the lead but when he received nothing, he shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said, “yeah, you are right, actually.”
Mentally, she tried to sift through all the conversations she’d had with Byron—had he ever told her he had a brother?
“Don’t look so betrayed,” John said. “I’m not surprised he didn’t mention me.”
She wanted so badly to contradict him, just to contradict him, that she almost opened her mouth to lie blatantly to his face but caught herself just in time.
“Mmmhm,” she said instead, “You’re accustomed to people being hesitant to let their connection with you spoil perfectly good new friendships?”
John placed his hand gently on his chest. “Ouch, that’s cruel.”
A traitorous part of her wanted to laugh, but she was too angry. The man who had approached them from behind and silently slid into the fourth seat of the town car had remained that way for the entire conversation. In fact, he was staring so intently out the window that Abigail was pretty certain he wouldn’t react if she cracked a whip.
“Can one of you two jackasses just tell me what’s going on?” she said, her voice letting on how exhausted she felt.
The movement of Byron turning his head to look at her caught her eye, but she resiliently kept her eyes fixed on John, who shifted in his seat.
“I can’t disclose much,” he said, “but what I can tell you is that I am the least of your worries.”
“Oh, I think you can tell me a little more than that,” Abigail said, glaring.
Byron let out a sigh, “look, honestly, he actually can’t.”
She raised her eyebrows as she turned to look at him, and she was pleased to see he shrank a little under her gaze.
“Much as I hate to agree with him on anything,” he added sheepishly.
“Why can’t he?”
She looked between the brothers, who had instinctively glanced at each other and then immediately away. Byron waved a hand, which John took as permission.
“Well, because it’s a matter of keeping a lot of people safe,” John said, reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing a circular object.
He handed it over to her, the silver star gleaming even in this light.
“You’re a US Marshall?” she said, meeting his gaze.
“Sure am, and so was he,” John said, gesturing to Byron, who was looking anywhere other than at her.