Darling princess my ass. “I can do that.”
“Good girl.” He cocks his head. “I’d leave Chaser’s coke problem out of the discussion.”
“I haven’t talked about it with anyone except him and now you.”
He raises an eyebrow as if he’s impressed with my discretion. His low opinion of me is starting to grate on my nerves.
“Stump, forgive me for asking, but do you think this little of every woman or just me?”
He lets out a loud belly laugh. “Haven’t known a lot of females who could be trusted in my life, Mallory. It’s nothing personal. If it makes you feel better, I like you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He chuckles once more, then turns serious again. “I don’t want you to call the prison or alert them that you’re going to make a visit. I’ll set things up when you’re ready. Chaser will go in with you, but at least two of my guys are gonna tag along as escorts.”
A tremor of fear rolls through me. “Why? What are you afraid of?”
His gaze shifts to the left for just a second. Enough for me to suspect he’s lying when he says, “Nothing, sweetheart. Only a precaution.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mallory
Once we’ve finished the serious talk, Stump’s expression settles into something almost resembling friendly. “You got a few minutes?”
Wary, but unable to lie, I shrug. Other than catching up on soap operas and fretting about all the auditions I’m missing, my schedule is wide open. “Nothing but time.”
He shakes his head and mutters something about choking the fuck out of Chaser, which I pretend to ignore.
“Come on.” He motions for me to follow him. Feeling like a hound about to be banished to the doghouse, I follow Stump through the clubhouse and outside.
His boots crunch over the gravel as I hurry to keep up with his long strides.
Finally, he stops next to a blue Nissan Stanza. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a key, and holds it out to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“What’s it look like?”
I glance at the key and back to the car. “Whose is it?”
“Yours while you’re here.”
“Mine?”
His brow creases. “You sleep-deprived or somethin’? What’s so confusing?”
“Why are you giving me a car?”
He throws his arms open wide. “We’re out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. Don’t want you to feel trapped.”
My eyes water. “You got me a car?”
“Don’t get too worked up. It’s nothing special, Mallory.” He slaps his hand on the roof. “Five years old. Got about a hundred thousand miles on it, but it’s clean and runs well.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I’m sure you’re used to fancier vehicles.”
If by fancier he means a driver tasked with taking me everywhere when I lived at home, then, yes. My father hired someone to teach me to drive just long enough to pass the driver’s test and get my license. Then he never let me touch one of his precious cars again.
Maybe he always suspected I wanted to run away.
Stump hooks his fingers in the handle, opening the door for me. I slide into the soft velour seat and run my hands over the steering wheel.
“You know how to drive stick?” Stump leans into the open door.
My gaze lands on the shifter. “No.”
“Eh,” he grumbles. “Figured.”
He stomps around to the other side and yanks open the passenger door, throwing himself into the seat. “Came into the garage. Didn’t have a lot to choose from,” he explains.
“I love it.” I run my hand over the shiny silver knobs of the console. “Especially the tape player.”
He snorts. “You sound like Chaser when he was younger. Little shit used to bitch up a storm if he couldn’t listen to his crap in the car. His mom put up with it, I…” He stares out the window at the clubhouse, without finishing the thought.
Say something, Mallory. Anything.
I flip the visor down. “Oh, it has a mirror too. That’s handy.”
Stump chuckles and slams his door shut. “Start it up.”
“I…” Good grief, it’s not like I don’t know where the key goes. I jab the key into the ignition and twist. The engine catches. The car lurches and stalls.
Stump grins at me. “Next time, push the clutch in.”
“What?” I peer down, spying three pedals.
“Far left’s your clutch.” He fiddles with the stick. “Put it in neutral. Clutch down. Foot on the brake.”
It takes a few tries, but I get the hang of it and spend the next couple of minutes driving around the parking lot. Stump must be getting dizzy from circling the clubhouse. He points to the road.
“Let’s see if you can get it up to third.”
“What? No, I’m not ready for that.”
“It’s not a busy road. Besides, we need to test you on some hills.”
“Hills? Why?”
The corners of his mouth pull up. Not a good sign.
He directs me to the neighborhood where Chaser took me the last time we visited. I lurch and grind my way there, only stalling once. I circle the cul-de-sac, and Stump stares at his house as we pass. There’s a van in the driveway and sheets of ripped-up carpet in the yard.