I reach the sliding door, prepared to break into a sprint the second I step outside. But just as the automatic doors slide open, a large hand closes around my arm like a vise. And then a deep male voice booms in my ear:
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Chapter 11
I freeze at the exit to the supermarket. The pressure of the hand grabbing my arm is intense enough to hurt—I may have a bruise tonight. There’s no chance of getting away. That’s for certain.
I turn around to figure out who grabbed me. A middle aged man is standing behind me, dressed in a gray uniform. He has a mustache and close-cropped gray hair, and muscles are popping out of the short sleeves of his uniform. His hand is still on my arm.
“I…” My mouth feels too dry to swallow. “I didn’t steal anything.”
I put that watermelon soap back. I’m sure I did.
“I never said you stole anything.” There is a gold ID badge pinned to the breast pocket of his uniform, emblazoned with the name Pete. “But are you supposed to be leaving here yourself?”
My mouth falls open. “Why can’t I leave?”
Instead of answering my question, he drags me by my arm over to the customer service counter by the back door. It feels like he’s about to rip my arm out of the socket. He grabs the microphone sitting on the counter, hits a button, and his deep voice booms out through the entire supermarket: “Camila Mendes to the front entrance. Camila Mendes to the front entrance.”
I suck in a breath, panic rising in my chest. My plan is disintegrating before my eyes. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
His hard, beady eyes look straight into mine. “If I let go of your arm, are you going to try to run?”
I want to run, but I’m not kidding myself that I’m going anywhere with this guy blocking the entrance. So I shake my head. The pressure on my arm eases up as he releases me. Christ, this guy is strong.
A few seconds later, Camila is racing to the front with her shopping cart. She’s frowning and there’s color in her cheeks. She abandons the shopping cart by one of the checkout lines and runs over to me, her dark eyes flashing.
“What do you think you’re doing, Tess?” she snaps at me.
“Nothing.” I raise my hands in the air. “I was just… I was shopping and this guy grabbed me.”
The burly guy, Pete, scoffs at me. “She was making a run for it. I stopped her before she got out the door.”
Camila nods. “Thanks so much, Pete. I appreciate it.”
He grins at her, obviously pleased that the beautiful Camila is grateful to him. She’s got him wrapped around her finger. “My pleasure.”
I jut out my chin. “Fine. I was trying to leave. What’s so awful about that?”
Camila shakes her head. “You can’t do that.”
“Actually, I can. I’m an adult. I’m allowed to go out on my own. I wasn’t going to take the car.”
Camila and Pete exchange knowing looks. I am getting so sick of everybody exchanging those looks. Like they’re all in on some secret that only I don’t know. And I find it even more interesting that Harry knew I wouldn’t make it out of here successfully.
“I want to leave,” I say through my teeth. “I’ll call the police if I have to.”
“Lady, I’m security,” Pete says.
I snatch my phone out of my pocket, glad I took the time to delete Harry’s text messages. “I’m calling 911. You can’t keep me prisoner here.”
“Tess, please.” Camila rests a hand on my arm before Pete can react. Her touch is gentle, at least. “Can we talk? Privately?”
I look between Camila and Pete, weighing my options. I want to try to make a run for it, but I don’t think I’ll make it. My best chance is to talk to Camila about it and explain how crazy this is. That I’m not some sort of dangerous mental patient who’s going to get myself killed if I’m alone for two seconds.
“Fine,” I agree.
Camila looks over at Pete. “You can go. I’ll handle it from here.”
His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Camila gently nudges me past customer service, down the hallway that leads to the bathroom. I follow her, my heart pounding so hard that I’m feeling dizzy. She stops and turns to face me, and all of a sudden, I’m not sure if I want to hear what she has to say to me.
“Tess.” Her voice is gentle but firm. Like a mother speaking to a naughty child. “Graham hired me to look after you today and every day. You’re not supposed to go off on your own. It’s not safe.”