Dane gave me that glower again.
I glared back. “And no payroll taxes. Don’t cheap out on me when I’m nothing like you’ve seen before.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “You trust me to make this payment?”
I puffed out a derisive breath that sounded like sheee-it. “No. That’s why you’re going to open the account in my name, deposit the money, and send me the necessary access info before I do anything for you.”
Was that a glimmer of respect I saw in his gray eyes? Nope, just more anger.
In that at least we were both on the same team.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
APPARENTLY,Dane had some kind of home base halfway between Queen Creek and San Tan Valley. The ranch house had an old weedy orchard on one side and desert-scabbed farmland on the other.
Another SUV just like the one that had loitered outside my house last night was parked in the sun-cracked driveway. So he’d been telling the truth about one thing, I guess.
I was shaky getting out of the car and worse as I walked toward the house. Its front concrete step was broken, and the screen door lacked a screen and screamed when Dane opened it for me. But it was the place’s isolation that made me think that maybe I’d made a mistake.
Too late now.
Inside the front room were two other people. A middle-aged woman in jeans and a t-shirt hunched in front of a computer at a card table. The other man wore a suit like Dane’s, and he resembled Dane enough to be a clone except for the blond hair. Both of them looked at me with hard eyes, and I didn’t exactly smile at them either. Okay. No friends here.
“This is Jen and Carlo.” Dane gestured first to the computer lady and then the one in the suit, adding to the latter, “Go find something for Ms. Taylor to eat. And make up a bed for her.”
Carlo got up and left, but Jen gestured me toward the small kitchen. Standing at the shabby linoleum counter, she swabbed my mouth, took five vials of my blood—yeah,five—then sent me to pee in a cup.
Finishing up in the itty-bitty bathroom, I washed my hands. I caught my reflection in the mirror above and winced. The speckled glass made it look like I had the worst zits ever, but the shadows under my eyes and my tangled hair were an ugly reality.
Back in the kitchen, Carlo handed me a sandwich with a grocery store deli sticker on it markedTurkey Club. I took three bites, but my stomach was still churning and my head was so heavy that I didn’t even notice until I felt the prick that Jen had ranged near enough again to give me a shot.
My heart thumped hard, once, as I drew a deep breath, but only managed “What the fu—?” before the house tipped sideways.
My head lolled back and I found myself staring up at Dane, who’d caught me. He handled me with the same steadiness that he held his gun. I wanted to scream at him that this wasn’t part of our deal, but his hooded gray eyes faded to black.
When I woke, the light had changed. My throat was scratchy. Muscles tight.
I lay on a twin bed on top of one of those cheap flannel blankets, and my t-shirt was damp with sweat, but the rest of me was cold. My head swam as I stood, and my back ached in the middle of my spine. Stretching only made it hurt more. But I lurched to the bedroom door, and—thank God, it wasn’t locked.
Stumbling out into the front room, three figures came into focus, blurred again, and then finally solidified in my vision.
“How long was I out?” My left hand itched. As I scratched, I found the purple had darkened again. So, the little bug fuckers hadn’t been flushing out of my body as I’d hoped.
“You had a lot of sleep to catch up on,” Dane said, standing up from the second chair at the card table. “Feeling any better?”
He hadn’t answered my question.
And, hell no, I wasn’t feeling any better. I was much worse. Probably because he’d fucking drugged me.
“I need my phone to call my mom,” I said, clutching the corner of the doorway. “She’ll be worried if I don’t check in.” Mom had told me she’d be with Joe all day, but Dane didn’t know that.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,” he told me. “It seems your phone was compromised, and by the same person or persons who also hacked into Mr. Price’s phone. This development is very concerning. We’ve sent both away for forensic analysis so that we can neutralize the threat as soon as possible.”
I stared at him, while my sluggish brain debated if I should tell him about Jacksalot Jacob.
“Then let me use your phone,” I said.
“I’m not permitted to allow anyone to use my devices.”
