“She’s okay.”
“That’s good.”
He hums, but I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me or in agreement with my statement. That’s the thing about Soren. I can’t read him like I could Lev. Just thinking about those emotion-filled eyes makes me weak in the knees and I slow the car near our exit, hoping to get this collection done without any hiccups.
Donnie Marten drives an Aston, which makes me chuckle slightly as I pull up next to the freshly polished vehicle. Soren and I step out of the vehicle, the two of us walking cautiously toward the entrance. My hand remains on my piece, a warning to anyone watching me that I can do plenty of damage despite my tiny frame.
We’re just a few feet from the entrance when the door opens. Donnie steps out, extends a white envelope toward me, and then raises his hands, backing away slowly. Soren keeps his eyes on the guy while I count the cash.
“It’s what he owes,” I whisper. I squint at Donnie, offer a friendly grin, and bow my head. “The Moretti family thanks you for your repayment, Mr. Marten. Let’s hope our paths never cross again.”
Suspicion laces through my body as I try to inconspicuously rush Soren back to the car. We’re back on the highway minutes later, my heart fluttering in my chest while I toss the wad of cash into his lap. He sighs as he shoves the envelope into the glove box.
“Alex, that was too easy,” he says. “Take this side road here.”
“This one?”
He taps the windshield. “Do it now, sugar. We’re being followed.”
“Fuck.”
Without using my blinker, I swing off the main highway and speed up, watching my rear-view for the car that’s been tagging behind us. Sure enough, the headlights come into view and I hit the gas, adrenaline coursing through my veins while I grip the wheel. Soren calmly instructs me where to go to lose the car.
But not before it races up right behind us and lays on the horn.
A squeak of alarm erupts from me as I push the pedal to the ground. My Mercedes isn’t Soren’s BMW, but it’s strong enough to handle a little race. I swallow my heart as I approach a curve and slow down, swinging out of the way of the car behind us and then cutting across the lanes to follow the curve back to the city limits of Macedon.
While the car doesn’t crash, it spins out behind us, tires squealing loudly as the engine roars. I keep up my speed until we see signs for Macedon and then I slow down, turning on a few backroads that Soren says will get us back into the city. My stomach is doing backflips by the time I pull over near a park and press my forehead to the steering wheel.
The sudden silence burns my ears. I hear us both panting hard, the air thick with apprehension as I yank the keys from the ignition. They jingle as they slip through my fingers and land with a loud clack on the mat under my feet. Tears prick my eyes as I clutch the steering wheel, trying to get a hold of myself.
“Jesus, fuck, we almost died,” I struggle to say. “Again.”
“I don’t think Jesus fucks, sugar.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, unsure if I’m about to bark with laughter or vomit. “Shut up, Soren.”
“Bad time?”
“It’s always a bad time.”
His hand drifts between my shoulder blades, warm fingertips easing some of the tension from my muscles. “We’re fine now. We didn’t die. They didn’t get us.”
“But they could have, Soren.”
“Sugar, don’t think like that. We have to brush it off, okay?”
I shake my head. “How the fuck do we do that?”
“Come here.”
Without hesitation, he tugs me into his arms. It’s warm and comfortable here, the scent of sharp spices invading my nostrils and reminding me of those cinnamon twists I used to love getting with my father at the carnival. I nestle into his shirt and inhale as much of it as I possibly can without overwhelming my system.
“I was only being manipulative because I’m hurt and scared,” I whimper while digging my nails into his shirt. “You have to understand that, Soren. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know, sugar.”
He says the words, but I can tell his mind is a thousand miles away. And who would blame him, after everything I did? I certainly don’t.
I just wish I could fix it.