Page 54 of Stolen Princess

With that, the officer walks off, and Rhys rolls up the window. I give him a smug smirk. “How was that for social engineering?”

He shakes his head, re-buckles his seat belt, and puts the car into drive. “Fuck, I’m in trouble with you.”

“This is so exciting. My first make-out session with a guy ended with the cops. If I had a best friend, I’d call her and tell her all about it.”

He grunts and runs an agitated hand through his hair. “You read too many books, princess.”

“Probably,” I agree. “But it’s still a good story, and I have no one to tell.”

“You have no clue, do you? What we did was reckless.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, please. Your entire life is reckless.”

His anger grows, his voice climbing with it. “I control the reckless. With you, all my control goes up in smoke.”

I huff and return to the window. I don’t want to be chastised. I don’t want to be made to feel like a child. That’s been my entire life. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing. Do you not get how bad that could have been for me? How fucking close that was? I have several disguises and fake IDs with credit cards associated with those names on me. I have two guns and a knife in the backseat. One of those guns belongs to the man I nearly killed this morning. Not to mention, I’m a wanted man with my face smeared across lampposts. I’ll get arrested, and they’ll likely tack on kidnapping to my numerous crimes because no one will believe I didn’t steal you. You’ll simply go home to Mommy, the thrill of adventure over. For you, this is fun. For me, it’s my freedom.”

“It’s my freedom too,” I murmur under my breath, all kinds of stung and petulant. He kissed me, and not just because I begged him to. Right? Or maybe not. Maybe men don’t give a fuck who they kiss or how they kiss her. Maybe it’s all about fucking to them. I almost laugh at myself. Like it matters why he kissed me back.

“I knew I should have left you this morning, but I got stupid again and didn’t.”

That burns me up from the inside out as a ridiculous sense of betrayal hits me. He was going to leave me? Just like that? “Then why didn’t you?” I snap.

“Because you nearly died and I’m apparently a sucker!” he yells, his hand flying about before he returns it to the wheel and grips it so tightly the leather creaks.

“Well, I’m not dead, am I?” I say slowly, my voice evening out, turning cool. Detached. “And you know what? I can manage on my own without you.”

He laughs mockingly. “Right. You wouldn’t survive the night on your own.”

That stings too. All of his jabs are hitting their mark with perfect precision. If he keeps going, he’s going to make me hate him, but worse, regret him, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to regret these last three days, and I don’t want to regret my first kiss.

“Whether I would or I wouldn’t isn’t your concern, is it? You were going to leave me this morning. Same thing.” I point to an exit off the autoroute. “There. Take that and let me out.”

He balks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Do it,” I demand harshly as I set my bag onto my lap and fish through it until I find the zipper compartment on the bottom. “Here.” I pull out his necklace and drop it in the cup holder between us. “That’s what you wanted. That’s the only reason you’re here. Now it’s yours, and you can be on your thieving way.”

He eyes the necklace. “You’ve had it with you this entire time?”

“Yup. Told you you’d never find it in the cottage. Take the exit.”

He does, his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as we wind our way into a small town that is much nicer than the first one. Plus, I see a sign that reads Carona twenty kilometers, with an arrow. Perfect. Maybe I won’t make it to the sea, but that can be a future goal. One dream at a time. The festival is what I wanted. After that, well, I can figure it out then.

“This looks great. Pull over here.”

Without a word, he pulls over and puts the car in park. I can feel him watching me as I search through my bag to check that I have everything. “Can I have one of the guns?”

“You don’t know how to use it.”

“I can figure it out. I’m a smart girl.” I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll cry like a little, lost, helpless girl, and it infuriates me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore. I’m brave and smart and fearless. I mean, I’m not, but I’m trying to be, and the only way I’ll ever know what I’m made of is if I manifest it. Is if I go off and do it.

He grabs his knapsack off the back seat and hands me the gun that was pointed at my head this morning. Works for me.

I shove it into my bag and zip it up. I don’t say bye or good luck or thanks. He never cared about me. I was always a means to an end, and he told me so from the start. I knew better and yet…

It doesn’t matter. I unbuckle my seatbelt, open the car door, and get out. It slams shut, and my heart seizes with pain and fear, the first part of that making me feel silly. I shouldn’t care. My instincts about him before the kiss were wrong. He didn’t even like me. He barely tolerated me, and yet I got clingy.