Bones (Dark Kingdom, #5) — Chapter no 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

MIA

NOW THAT MY picture has been online, I’m able to go out in public.

Dillan doesn’t want me out and about alone, so I called Jasmine today to see if she wanted to go to lunch. Thankfully, she swung by and picked me up from Dillan’s to take me to Kingdom to eat with the girls.

We’re walking out to her car when she looks at me over her shoulder.

“Want to drive?”

My feet come to a stop. “Really?” I can’t keep the excitement out of my voice.

“Of course.” She dangles the keys to her SUV out in front of me.

All of a sudden, I’m nervous. Her car is expensive. I’d hate to crash it into the building. Then I’d owe her and the Kings. “I don’t know.”

“I promised you I’d teach you to drive.”

I turn around to see Dillan walking out of their private entrance, coming down the steps dressed in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tatted forearms and matching slacks. He looks so good in

black.

“But—”

“Get in. I’ll sit in the back,” Jasmine tells me, and I swallow nervously. I can’t say no to both of them.

I slide into the driver’s seat while Jasmine crawls into the back, and Dillan sits to my right, closing the door. I feel sweat start to bead on my forehead.

“What’s the first thing you do?” he asks me.

Uh … “Start the car?”

“No.” Jasmine scoots to the edge of her seat and pokes her head into the front space. “The first thing a woman does is lock her doors. The moment you shut your door, you lock them.”

I look at Dillan, and he seems as confused as I am at her statement.

“Lock the doors?” I question.

She nods once. “There is this thing called sex trafficking.” Dillan stiffens at her response. “And it is very real. I’ve experienced it firsthand.” Before I can ask her what she means exactly, she goes on, “I’ve also heard stories.

It’s not just the trafficking industry, but about women being taken in general.” She licks her lips. “This one woman was in Oregon. The surveillance camera showed her walking out to her car from the store.

When she got in, she turned around to place her purse in the back seat, and as she did, a guy opened her door and yanked her out. Another car pulled up next to it, and he threw her into the back and drove off with her.” She holds up her pointer finger. “Another was of this woman in Texas. She was driving her boyfriend’s lifted truck. The surveillance camera showed her entering the store. There was a truck parked three spaces over. A guy got out of the passenger seat and followed her inside while the guy who was driving got out and crawled under the truck. When the woman went to get back in the truck, the man underneath it slit her Achilles tendon, then crawled out from under the truck while the one who had followed her inside

grabbed her, and they took off.”

“Jesus,” I gasp.

“They found her body three days later in a field. She had been sexually assaulted and murdered. Dental records had to confirm her identity.”

I swallow, and Dillan’s jaw sharpens.

“And never, I mean, never smell something that someone gives you,”

Jasmine goes on.

“Why would someone give me something to smell?” I ask wide-eyed.

“Like, I read where men and women hang out in parking lots pretending to sell flowers or having women smell perfume samples. Anyway, the point is that they were laced with some kind of concoction that made their victims pass out almost immediately. Then they would take the women.”

I swallow nervously while staring at Dillan. He’s looking out the windshield, jaw set in a hard line and his arms crossed over his chest.

“And don’t ever let someone borrow your phone to call a loved one,” she states. “It’s a ploy. They come up to you and say ‘oh hey, my phone died; may I use yours to call my husband, sister, mother’ … whatever. Only to call the person who is outside in a shady van. They get your cell and hack into your phone and track you down hours later while you’re sleeping in your bed. I mean, some people would say that God tests you to see if you’re kind. But these days, you can’t afford to be nice. God’s not testing you. I

promise you. He’s not sending an angel in disguise to see if you’re worthy for a better afterlife. Be a bitch. Tell them no and save yourself. I’ll chance going to hell any day over being mutilated and left in a ditch.”

“What the fuck, Jasmine?” Dillan barks. “Where did you read all of this shit?”

“The internet. Or on a show of real-life crimes. Don’t you watch TV?” she asks but doesn’t let him answer. “It’s all over the news on any given day. Hell, I was followed around a Target once. I immediately found a manager and told him. He escorted me out.” She begins to dig in her purse and pulls out what looks like metal bunny ears. “You need one of these.”

She places her two fingers through the holes and holds it up to Bones’s tatted neck. “If a man puts his hands on you, you jam this into his jugular.”

She pretends to demonstrate on Bones. “All the way until your knuckles are in his fucking throat. Then you rip that bitch out. When he falls to the ground, gasping for air, you stand over him and watch the motherfucker bleed to fucking death.” She gives me a bright smile. “And once you know the devil has come to collect his sorry fucking soul, then you call the cops.

A dead man can’t sue you for attempted murder. It’s your word against his.

And he’ll lie to save his own ass. I am always watching my surroundings.

When I’m walking to my car in the daylight, I look at the cars I walk by to see their reflection behind me to make sure I’m not being followed. I always have a gun on me too. Just in case I feel like a bullet will do a better job. But you can’t just walk around with one of those in your hands. Not

like you can your keys.”

I reach over and lock the door.

“That’s it!” Dillan snaps, immediately unlocking it. “We’re not practicing today.” He gets out of the car, slamming the door and making me jump.

“What?” I gasp. “Dillan …” But he can’t hear me as he rounds the front of the car. He rips open the driver’s side door and yanks me out.

“But you promised—”

“I lied.” He interrupts me, pulling me around the car and placing me in the passenger seat of his vehicle that was just parked a few cars down from Jasmine’s. He slams the car door shut.

What the fuck? I look up to see her mouth, “I’m sorry,” before he gets into his driver’s side seat.

BONES

I ENTER THE house, and she’s following me. I can hear the heels of her shoes

stomping on the marble floor.

“Dillan!” she demands.

I ignore her, entering the bedroom.

“We had a deal!” she yells.

“I lied.” I start undoing the buttons on my shirt. I wasn’t done with work for the day. Hell, it’s barely noon, but my mood has soured enough that I’m not going back. I’ll work from home the rest of the day.

She comes to stand before me, hands on her hips and lips thinned. “Then I’m breaking off this fake relationship.”

I laugh at that.

She lets out a growl. “I’m serious.”

And so am I. I’ve never thought about how dangerous the world is for a woman. Especially a woman like Mia Bianchi. Her name is out there now.

We’ve gone public. Everyone knows she exists. Every enemy her father has makes her their favorite target. Every enemy I’ve ever had makes her an easy target. Fuck, I was so stupid.

“I’m serious!” she shouts. “The fake relationship is off, and I’m out of here.” She turns for the closet, and I grab her upper arm, spinning her around.

Cupping her face, I drop my eyes to her chest. It’s rising and falling

quickly at her heavy breathing.

“I’m leaving.” She lifts her chin.

“You’re not going anywhere, Mia.” My eyes meet hers. “You belong to me.”

“Fuck you, Dillan!” She goes to turn from me.

I grab her upper arm, yanking her to me. Letting go of her, I lean down and grab her thighs, lifting her off the floor and slamming her ass onto the counter. My hands go to her hair, and I kiss her.

Her hands come up, and she shoves my face away. “Take that back,” she

demands.

I smirk. “Excuse me?”

Her eyes narrow on me. “I said take it back.”

“No.” I place my hands on either side of her face. “I won’t take either one back. One, because I’m not letting you go anywhere. And two, because

you do belong to me.”

“I’m not your property,” she snaps.

“You’re right. You’re not my property. You’re going to be my wife.” She swallows as I run my hand through her hair. I haven’t told her that we no longer need to get engaged. A part of me still wants to go through with it.

But it wouldn’t be pretend anymore. “And that may not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.” I go along with it.

Licking her lips, she whispers, “And what does that mean exactly?”

“That I’m going to protect you. That I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you. That I’m going to spend the rest of my fucking life putting you first. And that includes not putting you in danger.” My father was right— I’ll put her before everything else, including myself.

“Everyone gets to drive, Dillan.” She rolls her eyes like I’m the one being dramatic.

“I’ll buy you a car and a chauffeur.” One of those military-grade tanks.

Problem solved.

“I want a normal life,” she argues.

I hate to break it to her, but she’ll never have one of those. Not as a Bianchi and definitely not as a Reed.