After stealing money from her wealthy but controlling stepfather, Nataly Collins makes the bold decision to run away with her four-year-old sister. But as she does, she crosses paths with an escaped convict from the local penitentiary, and he plans...
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There is an unsettling uptick in my heart as I return my attention to the road.
Suddenly it becomes really hot inside this vehicle and I ache to roll down the window and catch some air.
My worry wart mode returns with a vengeance.
This man has probably killed before and he'll have no problem killing again.
OHMIGOSH. How do I know he isn't actually having me drive to a human trafficking house?
Will he really just let us drive off into the sunset once I take him to his destination? I'll know too much. Even Nova will know too much.
"Everything okay, princess?" Brandon asks, eyeing me curiously.
What, can he sense that I'm having a mild panic attack over here? Am I that obvious?
I want to scream back no, everything is not okay. In fact, okay left my mental state as soon as he threatened to blow my head off.
Instead, I release a voiceless, "Yeah."
"Cool." Brandon stretches his arms with an exaggerated yawn. The overall preposterousness of it causes Nova to laugh.
"Oh, you find my yawns funny, huh?" Brandon asks, leaning backward.
Nova nods, smiling. "Uh-huh."
"I don't see what's so funny abo-OOOOOUUt it," he says, seizing up with another yawn.
Nova neighs like a pony, cupping her mouth.
"I'm just a tired OOOLD man." This time he emphasizes the o, mimicking a howling wolf than a sleepy old guy.
My little sister bawls with laughter, finding him the most hilarious comedian. Brandon chuckles with her and I'm helpless against cracking a smile myself. Though, my hands tighten around the steering wheel as I remember what's in our passenger's pocket.
I still need a plan of escape.
Or at least something to ensure that he doesn't kill us.
What can I use? What can I do? What can I say that I haven't already said?
Think, Nataly.
DAMMIT, THINK.
Brandon leans forward and starts seeking through all of the radio stations. I'm about to argue with him when I remember he's an escaped con with a gun and not really my boyfriend. So I press my lips together to shut up.
In a total surprising turn of events, Brandon lands on the Disney station and Nova all but loses her shit when "What's This" from The Nightmare Before Christmas reverberates through the speakers.
She squeals and then begins mumble-singing all of the lyrics, always a beat or two behind.
Brandon watches her with wide, expressive eyes before asking, "Does our little ladybug get down with Jack Skellington?"
I release a soft breath. "Jack and Sally are her favorite everything right now."
"And Oogie Boogie!" she interrupts her own singing to say.
When Brandon stares back at Nova with astonishment, I add, "She's never been the princess type. She's always had a gothic heart—my little Wednesday Adams."
Seeming to accept this, Brandon nods his head along to the song. "Hate to break it to you, buttercup, but your sister is way cooler than you."
I bite my cheek from grinning. "Nova is cooler than all of us."
Suddenly, a deep rumble joins the off-pitched, off-beat Nova. My eyes have to do a double take. Is the King of Mayhem Six singing What's This with a four-year-old?
Sure enough, when I turn my head, I watch him perform. His arm extends to Nova as he belts out the lyrics like a surprised Jack Skellington parading around Christmas Town. A full on character performance.
I gape at him with quiet fascination before returning my eyes to the road.
"What?" he asks, pausing his merry rapping. "Jack Skellington is my guy." Then he holds up his hands, showcasing his skeletal tattoos.
That's all it takes for me to grant him an adoring look, unable to deny how unbelievably attractive he is.
I take in his dirty blond hair, not as freshly shaven as it was in his mugshot, but still in tip top shape. There are additional death-themed tattoos like flowery coffins and well-shaded ravens that decorate his neck.
Then my eyes trail down to his Lenny's Auto jacket. Even with that thing on, I can make out the definition of his biceps. I remember their solidness as he collided into me earlier for the Ritz crackers.
Goosebumps flake my arms and I instantly hate myself. This guy is a convict. He is currently holding me and my sister hostage, even if my sister has no clue about it. Even if he's singing his heart out with a little girl just to make her happy.
But seriously, what's up with those sterling blue eyes? I've never in my life seen eyes like his before. The way they appear marble yet fluid. Kind of an oxymoron like himself. How he's both cold and dangerous when he needs to be but also warm and adaptable.
Okay, fine. Maybe I'm kidding myself because he's just so freaking attractive. That was always my mom's problem—her weakness.
Suddenly I feel eyes on me. Brandon's eyes. I swear my skin heats under his gaze. When I look at him, he gives me a small smile. Almost like he knows that I've been thinking about him. And for the second time today, he winks at me.
Oh, God. No, no, no.
Flushing a bright tomato red, I quickly turn my attention back to the road.
The last thing I need to do is fall for my kidnapper. It honestly can't get any more toxic than that and I just made a vow to never become my mother in that respect.
I know guys like Brandon Donato. I've watched Mom date them over and over again until she ultimately married one. They seem nice at first. Even Ken was. But eventually they transform into the monsters they are deep inside.
"Bandon?" Nova asks sweetly, her little voice dropping the "r" in his name.
"What's up, bug?" I butt in, eyeing her through the rear view mirror.
Ignoring me, my little sister continues to speak to Utah's most wanted. "I have to potty really bad."
I swallow, my entire body tensing up. Will he let us make the stop? Will he tell her to pee in a cup or suck it up, buttercup? We're not that far from Cedar City. There are plenty of opportunities for the bathroom still.
Brandon nods slowly, plucking up one of Ken's VitaTekk hats on the ground near his feet. He slides it over his head and opens the glasses-shaped pouch integrated on the roof of the wagon. Sure enough, Ken's Ray-Bans are safely tucked away, just waiting for a convict to use them.
Brandon puts them on, sizing himself up. "How do I look?"
Somehow, and irritatingly so, he looks even more hot. Like, panty-dropping hot.
I swallow, struggling to reply.
Satisfied, he zips up his stolen auto car jacket. "Alright, fam. Let's stop at the McDonald's off Exit 341."
It isn't until I'm turning right off the road that I decide I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure we escape Brandon Donato.
One way or another, this is our only shot at ditching the dangerous convict.
