Page 23 of Nothing to Tell

“Yes,” she said.“What better reason is there to stand up to someone?”

No?Nothing.No response.

They just kept driving.Whatever his opinion, he didn’t share it.Good.They didn’t need to bond or get to know each other.She’d find some way to tell Adara that Bastian was no longer a part of their lives and that would be that… If he ever let her out of the car.

Which he wasn’t going to do.With each new corner and stretch of road, he made it clear he wasn’t stopping.

As she was on the cusp of succumbing to sleep, he pressed a button and slowed the car.

God, her eyes stung.They’d been open too long or her makeup blurred them.She hadn’t even looked in a mirror since before the attack.She was probably a complete mess.Closing them tight, she let her hands hold her head for just a few seconds of peace.

When the motion of the car stopped, she raised her head again.A garage.

Okay.

Bastian shut off the car and they sat in complete silence for more than five seconds.

Harper yawned and sat up straight.So… what now?

Bastian opened his door and got out of the vehicle to unlock an internal side door on the far wall.A low light came from beyond, just a halo around the doorway, no details.

Should she stay there or get out?She sat static when he rounded the hood to reach her side and open the door for her.

Instead of offering a hand to help her out, he crouched, blocking her exit.“Give me your driver’s license.”

So she’d been wrong about the statistics.“Are you mugging me?”

She didn’t follow what was happening.

Was government ID the price of admission?

“If you’re concussed, I’ll need to ask you questions,” Bastian explained.“And I’ll need to know the right answers.”

Logical, but unnecessary.“I’m not concussed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“No,” he said.“Are you?”

Touché.

Harper exhaled.“Bastian…”

Opening his palm, he wasn’t expecting a hand, he wanted her ID.Grumbling, she shoved her whole purse into his arms.

“I don’t need your bag.”

“My day-planner is in there,” she said.“You can ask questions about friends and family birthdays, events, you can ask about my business meetings, my menstrual cycle.After I get them right, you’ll know I’m not concussed, then you can call me a cab.Can I get out of the car now?”

Acquiescing, he rose.“You’re not leaving,” he said, slamming the car door behind her.

NINE

WAS THAT A THREAT?A reassurance?A promise?Damn her inability to interpret tone.His fingers laced between hers to lead her through the door halo and into, ah, a kitchen.A huge kitchen with granite counters and a plumbed central island.It kept on going.A twelve-place dining table, then a seating area with couches and end tables in front of the glass wall at the end.

Wow.