The Perfect Cover (The Perfect Stranger #2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,29
money that he borrowed from me and a $100 bill that the girl he met last night had given him.
If I didn’t know him, I’d suspect that the money was stolen, but I know how charming and sweet he can be and how women will fall over backward to help him.
I glance over at Isabelle, expecting her to try to stop him.
She doesn’t.
I don’t either.
It’s not worth the energy when the outcome will be the same.
Besides, I want some alone time with her.
A few moments later, Mac exits without another word and Isabelle and I remain, listening to the silence that he leaves behind.
“What happened?” I ask.
She buries her head behind her laptop, pretending not to hear me.
I ask her again, and again she ignores me.
“Did you have a fight? Did he do something?” I ask.
“Yeah, he did something.”
I clench my fists.
He hurt her.
He could have any woman he wants except her. She said no and he pushed himself on her.
“He burned my journal,” she says with tears in her eyes.
My hand opens up as I try to process what she just said.
“So, he didn’t attack you?”
She stares at me, shaking her head and saying, “Yes, he did. He grabbed my journal, ripped the pages out of it, and then burned them.”
“Okay, I understand. I just got scared that maybe he put his hands on you.”
“Typical,” she says sarcastically. “You don’t give a shit about what he actually did because you assume that at least he didn’t do something way worse.”
“That’s not what I said,” I protest.
I hate this anger that transpires between us. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but Mac’s presence seems to be bringing out the worst in us.
I ask her about the journal and she relays the details.
I try not to be relieved by what Mac did, but I am.
I offer her sympathy but she doesn’t accept it. I’m not a very good liar. If the Pittsburgh Police Department knew that, then none of this would’ve ever happened.
“Do you think that he did the right thing?” she says more as a statement rather than a question. Or perhaps, it’s an accusation?
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to have another fight. We don’t have too much time together and that time needs to be special.
Honeymoon sort of special.
After all, I am trying to figure out if she will be the one person to know my whereabouts after I disappear for good or if she will be like the rest of them; clueless about the man I’m about to become.
“I was just writing down my thoughts. It was cathartic,” Isabelle says after a long pause. “My therapist said it would help and it did. I have no intentions of keeping that journal or showing it to anyone.”
“What if—” I start to say, but she cuts me off.
“I know. What if the cops stop us? What if the FBI finds it? Then they’ll know that I’m not really your hostage. Mac has already given me a long lecture about this. Right before he burned the pages.”
“He shouldn’t have done it like that but I’m glad he did it.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t want those pages to exist one moment longer than they had to. It’s proof that your reasons for being here are false. He was just trying to protect you.”
“I know,” she repeats herself.
I nod, unsure as to what else to say.
“I doubt that he did it for that reason though,” Isabelle says. “He’s out at a bar somewhere picking up a girl. She’s going to gaze into his eyes, stare at his face, while they do God knows what. She’s going to remember what he looks like. She may not recognize him now, but if she ever sees his face on the news anytime in the future, she’ll remember.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
“That’s why I’m so pissed. He thinks that it’s okay for him to take all of these risks but God forbid I write down one honest truth in my journal and he goes ape shit.”
I’m getting tired of this conversation. As much as I enjoy Mac’s company, he has been a wedge in our relationship.
Isabelle is right.
His presence is only adding risk to our travels.
We would probably be a lot further along without him, but that doesn’t change the fact that I owe him.
“I can’t just leave him,” I say.
“I’m not saying leave him.”
“Well, I can’t control him either. What do you want me to do?”
She