“Good girl.” He grabbed my arm and helped me from the bed.
Not knowing what else to do, I nodded cautiously and left with my captor.
CHAPTER NINE
“How can you stand eating that shit?” Santiago stared from across our antique, country-style kitchen table. It was surreal to see such a lethal-looking man sitting in our cozy, homey kitchen. But then again, nothing about this situation fit.
Knowing my body needed food, I forced myself to take a large bite of my microwaved veggie burger and chewed, ignoring his question. How I managed to swallow anything, I didn’t know. My stomach had been in huge knots from the moment we’d left the hospital and headed straight for my house. Yes, he knew where I lived, like he’d driven to my sandstone-colored stucco house, which looked like all the others on the block, a thousand times. He’d even pulled into my spot, right of the garage. When we got to the front door, he took out a set of keys from his pocket to open it. The guy had my house key. I immediately headed for my room, hoping I could hole up inside, but he’d grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen. “You need to eat something,” he’d scolded.
And now, he simply stared with disgust, watching me chew, and I couldn’t help my stomach from plummeting and clenching or my hands from shaking.
Nervous as hell, I looked up at the clock on the wall. Normally, my mother came home around midnight. It was a quarter to.
I choked down another bite and focused my eyes on the table, avoiding eye contact. Somehow, someway I needed to figure out what I was going to do. What if this guy never left? Be brave. Be brave. Start asking questions. “Are you staying tonight?” I blurted out.
“Are you inviting me?” he asked.
I gasped and looked him.
“Didn’t think so,” he responded dryly. “I plan to stay until your mother gets home. Then I have business to attend to.”
He was going to leave? Thank God. And he had business at this hour? Probably had puppies to strangle or a bank to rob.
I heard the front door open and then close. My mother was home. I rushed to greet her and threw my arms around her neck.
“Dakota, why aren’t you in bed yet?” She peeled me off her. “You need to be resting.”
“Mom, I need to tell you—”
“Eh-hem,” Santiago appeared in the foyer behind me.
My mother’s face lit up. “Oh, Santiago. Thank you so much for keeping an eye on Dakota.”
Why did she trust him? What lies could he have possibly told her that would grant instant access to “the circle of trust” as De Niro would say?
“It was my pleasure.” His smile was deceivingly warm and charming. He put his arm around me. “I’m just glad she’s all right.” He kissed the top of my head, sending tiny shivers down my spine—the bad kind.
“Well, I’ll let you two say your good nights, but then off to bed with you.” My mother walked upstairs to her room.
Santiago’s sweet expression soured, and he backed me into the wall with his large body. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, Dakota,” he hissed quietly in my ear, “don’t.”
But once he was gone, there was nothing he could say that would keep me from telling her what had really happened or from asking her why she thought this guy was my boyfriend.
He gripped my shoulders firmly, and I felt his rough whiskers scrape against my cheek. “I see that playing nice was a mistake, so let me lay out all my cards.” His voice lowered an octave, triggering my knees to tremor. “If you tell her you don’t know me, someone’s going to get hurt. And I’m not speaking about your little secret, Dakota.”
Okay, I was wrong. There was something he could say. He could tell me again that my mother having her heart broken was the least of my worries.
“Dakota? Do. You. Understand?”
I nodded yes.
“Very good. Get some rest. I’ll be back to take you to school on Monday.”
That was in four days. Oh, thank heavens. By then I could figure out all this, couldn’t I? Yes. If he’d just leave, I would calm down and find a solution.
I watched his large frame leave my house, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to collapse right there on the floor and cry.
Four days. Four days, and he would be back.
~ ~ ~
After a long, hot shower, my pulse began to slow to an almost normal rhythm, and I felt like I could breathe again. No, I couldn’t risk telling my mother anything, but perhaps she could tell me more about what happened after the car hit me. What had Santiago told her? If they’d only just met, why did she believe he was really my boyfriend?