I nip her finger, and she snaps her eyelids open. “Let’s go there, baby.”
“No, Mickey, we will not be going there. So, pray tell, what did you see as the exit plan if and when someone came knocking on the door, and you had to kill them.” She’s practically vibrating with barely restrained anger. It’s kinda hot, but I don’t like the tone she uses. It reminds me of a teacher telling a kid off.
Rising onto my feet, I attempt to wrap her arms around my neck, but she refuses to comply. So instead, she stands there, stiff as a board, while I hold her waist. But she doesn’t lean back when I close the distance, so there’s only an inch between our faces.
“I guess we’re going to Mexico, baby.”
Her jaw drops, completely floored by my response, and suddenly, she’s all wiggle-and-fight-Mickey again, slapping my arms and shrugging out of my grasp.
Fine, I’ll let her have this little victory.
I let go, and she goes flying back, crossing her arms with a crazed expression. “My mother almost died trying to get out of that country, and you want us to go there voluntarily.”
I squint at her, considering her point. “You’re right. Well, I hope you like maple, mooses, and mountains then. Canada, here we come.”
“Moose,” she corrects. “The plural of moose is moose.”
“You’re so sexy when you get all nerdy on me.” I wink.
Narrowing her eyes, she does that cute nose scrunch. “How do you expect us to go there? I’m probably on the missing persons' list right now—there’s probably an ABB on me! Not to mention, we have no money.”
“It’s APB. And, Bella, you can question a lot of things, but don’t doubt my ability to make you happy.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Happy would also mean that we aren’t starved and homeless.”
“I’ve got money and a car. We can drive around until we figure it out.” It’s obvious Bella isn’t a number one fan of this place, with the crease that forms between her brows every time the house creaks or whenever she looks at the patches on the walls.
“We can’t just live out of a car, Mickey. What about kids?”
I pause, checking that I heard her correctly. “You want to have kids with me?” I smile.
She flutters her eyelashes and looks anywhere but at me. “What? No. I mean—um, it’s just not the right type of living conditions.”
“Mmhmm.” I’ll pester her about that later. For now, we need to get the fuck out of here before someone figures out these two guys are dead.
Whoever the fuck they are.
Chapter 22
ISABELLA
Roman’s whistling.
Why is he whistling?
He’s acting like setting fire to two mutilated bodies is an everyday chore for him. It must be because he didn’t hesitate when he took a photo of their IDs, stole their cash and a couple of coupon cards, and then doused gasoline on it along with the rest of them. All while whistling.
I can still feel the cold barrel pressed against my temple and how the man’s hand felt wrapped around my neck. The safety went off a second before the other man went down. Click. The sound plays on repeat.
When Mickey pulled the trigger, I thought I was done for. I was certain the man would call an eye for an eye and take my life.
I guess I should count myself lucky that the person who found me in the bathroom had some qualms about hitting women because he was gentle until he threw me aside.
Less aggressive than I’m used to is more accurate.
The moment he stepped into the bathroom, I froze. My drive to fight disappeared, and the only thing I did was whimper when he pointed the gun at me. I thought I was better than that. Stronger.
It’s mortifying, and both settling and unsettling that Roman can be so calm while committing several felonies after almost dying. It almost makes me feel like I’m the crazy one for being upset by all the gore I’ve witnessed in the past seventy-two hours.
Oh, lord. Has it only been three days?
I should be more upset by the fact I’m becoming the old me who followed him along and jumped when he said jump. But at least I’m sort of fighting him at every turn, and that must count for something.
I hope.
Even though I’m amped up, I bite back a wince with every step I take around the house. I’m now intimately aware of what everyone meant about not being able to walk after. It feels like my insides have been rearranged, and my poor lady parts are throbbing in a good and awful way. I both never want it to happen again, and simultaneously want it to happen on a daily basis.