“Listen to me,” Blaine says urgently. “Gael isn’t the kind of man to let his assets run off. He will come for you, no matter where you run or hide.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I don’t care what you think you know. This is real life now.”
“Get to the point,” I demand in frustration.
“We’ll buy you a few hours before tossing the chip, but he’s going to throw everything he’s got into getting you back, if your fighting record is to be believed.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?”
“Exactly what I tell you to.”
I was wrong earlier when I labelled his swagger as confidence. It’s more like blind stupidity if he thinks I’m going to follow his orders. I’ve listened to enough men telling me what to do.
“What exactly do you want from me? Spoilers or not, it’s abundantly clear whatpeople like youwant in return for their help.”
His mouth hooks up in a pleased smile. “I just want you to tell the truth, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“What truth?”
He leans closer, causing his black t-shirt to strain over his chest. While muscular, Blaine is svelte and wiry like all good hunters are.
“That Blaine Madden saved your life. Think you can remember that?”
“Well, it’s rather bloody complicated.”
Snorting, his tongue flicks out to touch his piercing again. “I like your smart mouth.”
“I’d like to know who the hell you are.”
“Call me… an acquaintance of an acquaintance.” He grimaces at his own choice of words. “That’s not right. More like an enemy of an acquaintance.”
My blossoming headache triples at that head fuck.
“Meaning?” I press.
“Meaning you’re gonna sing my praises from that gorgeous, pouty mouth of yours to those bastards at Sabre Security. Capiche?”
My lungs tighten into a vice.
Sabre… Security?
Too many old memories resurfacing at once make my skull throb harder. Acquaintance is definitely not the right word. I can make a good guess at who he’s looking to manipulate.
“We’re ten miles out, boss,” the voice calls again. “Seems as good a place as any.”
Reaching into his leather jacket, Blaine plucks out an old flip phone. It looks like a relic from decades ago, all bulky and scratched. He quickly tosses it at me.
“This is yours.”
I manage to catch the phone. “What’s it for?”
“You have a phone call to make.”
“Wait, I don’t understand…”
Squealing fills the rear of the van as the brakes are hastily applied. I’m thrown forwards by the momentum, straight into Blaine’s awaiting arms. A surprised grunt hums in his chest.
