Brandon's grip on my waist doesn't ease up. Not even the moment we're back inside the McDonald's. In fact, it only grows more threatening as he presses the barrel of the gun into my rib through his jacket's pocket.
"I missed you, buttercup," he pretends, pulling me in closer. He brushes my temple with his lips and then whispers, "Not. One. Fucking. Word. You try any shit with these workers, and I promise you that you'll never see Nova again."
"I-I won't," I reply, eyes smarting, biting my bottom lip.
"Good."
"I wanna play," Nova says, pointing at the playground. "Can I Natawee, please, please, please?"
Jaw trembling, Brandon directs me to the counter. The barrel of the gun is a constant reminder of the power he holds over me—over us. Nova doesn't realize it but she's in just as much danger as I am. Every single minute, every single second, we are at the mercy of Brandon Donato. A man no stranger to murder, undoubtedly.
We get in line behind a group of construction workers. Brandon rumbles deeply into my ear. "Get ahold of yourself, Nataly. You'll draw attention."
I bristle, daring to look up at him. Indignation claws at my lungs, causing short little breaths. "Why can't you just let us go? You can have the car. The money. Everything."
"Can I please play?" Nova begs again, eyeing the playground with starlit eyes as other children scream down the slide.
He blinks down at me—the sternness, the quiet rage in his eyes softening. "I thought we were starting to get along earlier. Everything was fine until you had to fuck it up, sweetheart. I knew I couldn't trust you and you proved me right."
He sighs, relaxing his death grip, and then slides on Ken's sunglasses. I suddenly feel a playful tap on the higher part of my ass, causing me to squeak in surprise.
By the time I turn to give him a piece of my mind, he's mimicking a T-Rex and attacking my little sister. She giggle-screams as he airlifts her and munches onto her side. Then he flies her to the indoor playground, keeping a special eye on me from a distance.
Fear zings up my spine. His message is loud and clear. Not one word to anyone or Nova gets hurt.
I try my best to act normal but I hate that I've put my sister in this situation. And Brandon's latest threat does not sit well with me. Every worry wart thought from before slinks up into my present moment.
I do not know this man. I don't know what he's capable of. Don't test him.
Trying to remain calm, I recite our order to the worker. I'm not sure what to order for Brandon but I end up getting him the same thing I get myself. I'm sure escaping authorities has given him quite the appetite. He'll probably eat anything.
While waiting for the order, the morning news lulls in the background on one of the television screens. Brandon doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that it features him. Again.
Wandering over to it, I stare up, hoping to learn more about the man taking us to God-only-knows-where.
The newscasters repeat the same information as earlier, but this time I catch his age: twenty-three. He's so young for an alleged crime boss; I wonder how he rose to rank so quickly in Mayhem Six. They say he's been in and out of jail since he was thirteen-years-old but his latest conviction was going to put him away for the rest of his life. Because he murdered a computer programmer named Lauren Fields.
My stomach flutters but not in a good way.
The newscaster goes on to label him highly dangerous and that authorities should be called immediately if we come into contact with him.
Yeah, if only.
One of the working girls behind the counter sighs dreamily. "That man is fine as fuck."
The burger flipping guy next to her nods emphatically. "Girl, I'd aid and abet him in a heartbeat."
I tsk under my breath, collecting our order. They don't realize how cold and terrifying he can be. Maybe then they'd think with their brains and not with their loins.
I spot Brandon at a nearby table, purposefully keeping his head low while simultaneously keeping an eye on Nova on the playground. His sunglasses are off again, folded at the crook of his v-neck mechanic uniform. The absolute confidence he must have.
"Here you go," I say, handing him his meal.
"Thanks."
I fall down quietly and eat my breakfast without relish. Brandon seems to do so too.
After a moment, he says, "Listen, Nat. Don't fuck with me. That's all I ask. You get me to where I want to be, I'll treat you and Nova right. But you pull shit like that runaway stunt again, and—well, you'll meet the other side of me. A side you don't want to meet. Understand?"
His warning makes me sick with fear, especially after learning he killed that programmer lady. This is definitely one of those instances where I should trust in his words, not his actions. He's been nothing but a dream to Nova, even going as far as to kiss my head gently. But his deep-throated threats when no one is listening have all been laced with the deadliest venom.
Sometimes words speak louder than actions, Natty.
I put my sandwich down and take a sip of my orange juice, gathering up courage to reply.
It took me two freaking years to escape Ken. Two! I refuse to be a silent, petrified victim, even in this horrible, life-threatening situation. If he's going to kill me, he can do so with my protests in his ear.
"Please give me some kind of idea of where you're asking me to take you," I plead. "Not knowing is eating me up and has me thinking of all kinds of things."
Brandon angles his head, as if he never considered that. "Like what?"
"I don't know..." I lean in, looking both ways before whispering, "You're a kingpin for crying out loud! For all I know, you plan on selling Nova and me to the highest bidder."
Brandon gives me a look of disgust. "That's what you really think? That I'd just sell you and your kid sister off to some fuckin' pimp?"
I shrug, nodding.
He shakes his head. "Okay, fair. You don't know me, but if it makes you feel better, I'd never do that to you or your sister. Never."
The way he says this has me convinced he's telling the truth. There's a conviction there.
But I have to ask anyway. "How do I know that for sure?"
"Because Mayhem Six doesn't deal in human trafficking nor do we tolerate it. In fact, I've put my rivals away for it. It's one of the reasons my ass even got arrested. Google it."
My jaw drops. "But the news said you killed a woman. A woman named Lauren Fields?"
"No, that's called a set up, buttercup. A cleverly constructed one. I didn't even know that woman. But since I frustrated a bunch of rapists at the top-tier level, they made sure to frustrate me. Gang politics 101. Google my prior arrests if you must. There's nothing about kidnapping women and children."
He waits expectantly, as if he wants me to pull out my cell phone right now.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because." I let out an annoyed breath. "Because I don't have my phone."
"You forget it or something?"
I shrug. "Or something."
"Ah." Brandon sits back with a smug grin. "Looks like I was right about you. Something ain't right. You and Nova on the run?"
I flush, entirely annoyed that he guessed it on the first try. "No!"
Brandon chuckles. "That definitely struck a nerve."
"Shut up."
Now I'm the one worried someone nearby might recognize me or Nova and call Ken. I scan the playground area, reminding myself we're two hours away from home.
Brandon suddenly leans forward and rubs his thumb underneath my eye. At first I jerk away, but he snatches my arm, forcing me closer. Eventually I stop fighting him because he's much stronger than me.
For a moment, it's all I can do not to relax before him, even as my heart topples in response. But he strokes the swollen red area so tenderly and concernedly. Only then does he finally let me go.
After clearing his throat, he asks, "Your dad do that to you, Nataly?"
I don't respond. Just cross my arms and look down.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he continues. "Spotted that mark back in the car. I just figured you had an abusive boyfriend."
I look down.
"Don't worry. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone," he teases."You did the right thing in leaving your punk-ass dad. Fuck him."
"Stepdad." I eye him. "And, well, he's a real asshole, so..."
"That much is evident." He pauses. "But that car outside belongs to him. And so does all that money in your trunk."
"Yeah, so?"
Brandon coughs, smiling. "Wow, you really are a sheltered princess. I mean, watching you count all that money out in the open at Bigfoot's Fuel was my first clue. You really have no survival skills do you?"
I scoff, warmth rushing up my neck. "You mean, was I expecting a con on the run to take me hostage? No," I deadpan.
He smiles again and something about it makes my whole stomach twist with dopamine. "Look, Nataly, I figure people out. It's why I'm good at what I do."
"And what exactly do you do?"
"Hm, we're not there yet, princess."
We quietly stare at each other, appreciating the fact that we actually have one thing in common: we're both runaways.
When Nova tumbles down the slide, I shout at her to come eat her pancakes. But she pretends like she doesn't hear me and continues playing.
I shake my head while Brandon chuckles even more, his handsome face absorbing the light while he smiles.
"It's better this way," he says. "Let her get it out of her system now because we'll be on the road for most of the day."
An urge to run bores inside me again. "Do you give me your word that you won't hurt us?"
Brandon nods, all light in his face gone as it slips back into that cold and distant mask. "As long as you play it straight, Nataly. Yes."
"Fine. I'll take you where you need to go. Which is where, exactly?"
Brandon scratches his chin, assessing me with those eyes. I swear, it's like he has a PhD in making me feel seen. The way he stares at me sometimes—so intentional and deep.
Additional goosebumps skitter to my nether regions, aching for his touch, his closeness. For something I haven't experienced with a guy in a really long time.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
I don't even like sex, to be honest. I had it a couple of times with my last boyfriend in his car as a way to turn off my grief and it was never all that fun to me. Logan would slide on top, do his thing like a humping chihuahua, and be done in like thirty seconds—if he could even make it to thirty seconds. So I much prefer taking care of myself when the need arises. Sex is way overrated.
But even I can't deny there's this swirling hot energy surrounding Brandon. He makes me question that I ever had sex in the first place.
Brandon gulps down the last part of his hash brown before replying, "Canada. I need you to get me to the border without raising alarms. There's a couple of safe houses along the way we can crash at and restock on food. It'll only take three days, tops. Then I'll get out of your life for good and you and Nova can continue on to Disneyland."
Everything within me stiffens.
THREE DAYS?
My time with Brandon Donato, the Mayhem Six boss, isn't going to be just a one day event.
I lean back, contemplating all options. Only to realize I don't really have any.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay," he mimics. He crumbles his hash brown paper, a smooth grin stretching. "Now the only thing to do is abandon your dad's car and steal someone else's. Preferably a vehicle without a tracking device."
My heart stops beating. Like literally, metaphorically, astronomically. With little breath, I ask, "There's a tracking device in the Mercedes?"
He doesn't reply. Just shakes his head like I'm the dumbest girl alive, laughing to himself.
WC: 2139