“You might have everyone else fooled, but not me. I don’t trust your smiles, or the whole victim act.”
Clover whimpered, deflated. Too soon. He’d been too brash. He’d petted the cat with too much insistence, and it lashed out. Back to the drawing board.
“Okay, okay.” He grabbed Drake’s wrist, afraid of ending up with a permanent imprint of fingers on his cheeks from the strong hold.
Red blots had appeared on Drake’s pale skin by the time he let Clover go and pulled him toward the cash register. They left the shop moments later, and when Clover sat in the passenger seat of the van, he didn’t feel any more comfortable than he’d had in the back of this same vehicle less than two days ago.
Tension oozed out of every pore on Drake’s handsome face, causing more awkwardness. Clover didn’t even get to buckle up his seatbelt before Drake started the car and drove off. Since the silence went on, he took off Tank’s T-shirt and put on the new one. He took his sweet time, discreetly checking if Drake was ogling him, because the atmosphere in the van was getting so dense he had to open the window.
“So… you bring all your victims to this van?” Clover asked, after what felt like miles on the road.
“You’re not funny. You just get away with a lot because of your face. Haven’t you just avoided becoming someone’s victim, yourself? What’s wrong with you to even make jokes like that?” Drake asked, with a scowl that would make his handsome face age faster, but pointing that out right now didn’t seem smart.
“I don’t know. I’m doing my best, but you can’t cheat fate. Whatever happens, happens. I’m curious about you, because you know what? I’m not buying your thing either.” Clover crossed his arms. “I bet you’re a total marshmallow on the inside.”
Clover yelped when Drake swerved to the side of the road and parked so abruptly, Clover was glad he had fastened his seatbelt earlier. “What the fuck!?”
Drake opened his door and slid outside. “I’m done with your attitude and your constant yapping.”
A jolt of intense heat pierced Clover’s body. Drake wouldn’t just leave him here. He couldn’t do that, could he? He’d been outvoted on this, and there were barely any cars driving through!
Clover remained still, flinching only when Drake yanked the door open and pulled him out of the van with a bruising grip. “You’re not staying with me at the front.”
“Why? This is so unfair. Are there even seatbelts there?”
Drake’s mouth twitched as he hauled Clover along the vehicle, which was already open at the back. The inside was packed with boxes and luggage, all secured to the walls with straps, but Clover’s gaze fell on a gray yoga mat and sleeping bag even before Drake tossed him there.
“I’ll make you seatbelts!”
Clover whined when Drake hoisted him up and followed like a panther on the prowl. “Does this van have other purposes than transportation?” He was trying to make a joke of it, but Drake’s intensity got to him already, and keeping up appearances wasn’t as easy anymore.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Drake said, his voice dull with anger, but before Clover could have provided a sassy comeback about Drake owning an ice cream van or a mobile brothel, Drake produced a roll of silver tape and tore off a piece.
“I’ll be quiet!” Clover protested, but it was no use. Drake forced the tape over his mouth.
“You will be now.”
Clover gave a sob-like sound of protest, since his skin was still tender after the last time similar tape had been torn off him, but when Drake pulled on his legs and secured his ankles together with a pair of cuffs, his mind was no longer sure what this was.
Efficient like a worker doing the same thing at a factory all day, every day, Drake then did the same thing to Clover’s wrists, with another pair of cuffs.
He wouldn’t go against Tank’s orders… would he? Clover shook his head at Drake in alarm. He hadn’t signed up for this!
“Stay put.”
Drake opened up a folding seat attached to the wall and sat Clover in it with a hard shove. Before Clover knew it, he was strapped to the van’s wall with a seatbelt, but to make matters worse, Drake pulled on Clover’s hair, forcing him down, and attached the cuffs on his ankles to the ones on his wrists with a carabiner clip. Why the hell would he be carrying such things around in the first place? The same fear that had clawed at Clover’s flesh and kept him immobile during the ordeal now turned into a throbbing pain in his chest.
Drake jumped out of the van, watching Clover with a deep frown. He grabbed the door, as if he were to close it but hesitated, digging his teeth into his bottom lip, his gaze fixed on Clover as if he was working out a serious maths problem. Many yards behind him, on a hill, a woman stopped her pink car and walked into a thatch of bushes, likely answering nature’s call, but Drake was too preoccupied with the task at hand to notice that someone could see him doing this.