Though he’d known ‘some’ about the ‘mayor of Kilgore’ he hadn’t known enough that he felt like I would be safe with him with an assassin hell-bent on taking Bruno out.
Lynn sighed. “So I take it you’re not going to Belle’s place, either?”
My heart skipped a beat at that announcement.
Bruno’s eyes met mine. “We’re going to mine.”
“Yours as in the one that nobody from this club has been to, that I haven’t been to, that one of your best friend’s hasn’t even been to?” Lynn asked carefully.
There was a pause and then Bruno said, very carefully, “Yes.”
Then he hung up, shoved the phone into his pocket, and then gestured at me to get started.
I looked at him blankly.
“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do,” I admitted. “I don’t have the keys to this car.”
He pulled something out of his pocket, a set of keys, and then unlocked it.
“Lifted it from the tech that was taking all my bandages off earlier,” he murmured. “We’ll drive to the nearest car lot and leave it there. From there, we’ll buy a new one and head out.”
Buy a new one.
What?
But that was exactly what he meant.
It took us ten minutes to get there, fifteen to buy the car—Bruno was very persuasive—and five to get the keys before we were heading out in a brand-new, 2021 Chevy truck under my name.
My. Name.
I wasn’t sure why it was under my name.
I didn’t ask. Didn’t think it would matter.
Only…
“You know,” I said. “If you were going to buy it in my name, you should’ve let me pay some of it off. I’m trying to build up my credit.”
He looked over at me.
“I have an 823 credit score right now. I want to have perfect credit, however,” I explained when he still hadn’t turned to look at me.
Which was then making me nervous.
“What you mostly need to do there is open more lines of credit in your name. A car would’ve worked—if we would’ve had the time to sit there and do all that paperwork. Even spending what we did there was a chance I probably shouldn’t have taken. Saying that, we needed a vehicle that was new. One that didn’t happen to have a tracker on it like the one they wanted me to get into probably had. And, just sayin’, I pay. Always. Get used to it,” he grumbled as he took the driver’s seat this time.
“I guess that’s a good enough reason not to take that car,” I expressed warily as I slid in beside him.
The seats were nice. Like warm, melted butter.
I pressed my hands to the leather underneath of me and nearly moaned.
I loved heated seats, and I loved soft things.
Soft things made my life go round.
“What are you doing?” he asked.