Page 107 of Stolen By the Billionaire
“Do you think I’d break my promise?”
He had no reason to think she wouldn’t. “I am responsible for getting us there.”
“You just don’t want me driving your fancy car. Is that it?”
An excellent ruse. “Yes.”
Plus, certain buttons hardwired into the dash were only to be pressed in very specific emergencies. Civilians should not drive his car.
Sarah sniffed and said, “You agreed to that way too quickly. It’s not about the car. You don’t trust me.”
The mission was the most important thing. Everything Blaze said or did was in service to the mission.
His mission was to protect Sarah from the White Russian mafia. Arguing with her about trust was not conducive to successfully concluding the mission. “I can’t trust you. You still think I kidnapped you.”
Dammit. Blaze was a lieutenant commander of DEVGRU. He should never argue like a middle-school kid with a mouth full of candy before supper.
“Well, you kind of did,” she said.
“The White Russians tried to kidnap you. They flew all the way to Iowa, threw you in a car, and threatened to shoot your horse.”
“You came all the way to Iowa, you zip-tied my hands behind my back, and you threw me in a car.”
“That’s what I mean. You think I kidnapped you.”
“You kind of kidnapped me!”
“I rescued you, and I never threatened you or your horse. As a matter of fact, I think Charlie likes me.”
She huffed and stared out her side window, where the rolling hills of eastern Michigan had relaxed into the pancake prairies of Illinois. “That dummy likes anybody who scoops out twice as much oats as I usually give them. You bribed him.”
“I don’t think of it as bribery. My actions were honest.”
“Because you honestly like sassy, chubby horses?”
“Because the mission was to protect you from the White Russian assassins who were on their way to kill you, and the most expedient way to complete the mission was to finish your chores. And when I do anything, I do it to the best of my ability. I fed Charlie his oats to the best of my ability, which included a generous serving of oats. You must admit that I was not pacifying you and did the chores properly, whether it was milking HowNow the Brown Cow or freeing the two of them from the paddock so that the mafia wouldn’t shoot them.”
“Okay, you did. HowNow was adequately milked, and they were released. But you still came back and sort-of kidnapped me.”
“The only reason I came back was because Mary Varvara Bell had sent someone to kill you. Let’s call Logan and have him explain everything to you.”
His phone began ringing through the speakers.
White letters appeared on the car’s wide dashboard computer screen that wrapped from the driver’s side support column past the center of the dash, Calling Logan Bell.
Sarah dived for the screen, poking the red dot. “No, no, no. Turn it off. Turn it off! Stop calling!”
The words disappeared, and the trilling ring ceased.
Blaze spoke to his phone, “Text Logan. ‘Sorry, butt dial.’”
His phone repeated it back to him through the car’s speakers, and he confirmed.
Sarah scowled at his phone, her cute little nose wrinkled up.
Blaze sighed. “You should talk to your brother. We’re on our way to his apartment.”
“I am not talking to him.”
