Temper (Knights of Fury #3) - Chantal Fernando Page 0,15

The bastard slides my phone out from his jeans pocket. “Well, good thing I already sent her that exact message then.”

I see red.

I’m not a violent person, but my hands lash out at him, hitting him on his chest, and trying to push him away from me, trying to hurt him, just anything to make him feel even a fraction of what I’m feeling right now. How dare he do this to me? How dare he message my sister, making her think everything is okay and that I’m being irresponsible by taking a last-second break with a biker I went on one date with? I don’t know if she’s going to buy the story or not, but that’s not the point. He’s a controlling, manipulative asshole and he doesn’t care who he has to step on to protect his beloved club of criminals.

He holds my wrists, and I know he’s regretting not retying me right now. I know it’s useless and I’m just wasting my energy. I almost want to apologize for my outburst, but I’m not going to.

He doesn’t deserve to hear an apology from me.

“I hate you,” I whisper to him, then glance out the window.

Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe it will all be fine and he will let me go back home once all of this shit is sorted. When he knows that the murder is covered up, or the men who tried to kill them are no longer a threat. I don’t really know what options I have.

I could continue to try to escape. Stay on my toes and use every chance I get to get away.

Or I could just play a waiting game, but that would mean trusting him, and he hasn’t quite shown me that he deserves my trust.

How am I supposed to trust his word now?

I don’t even want to give him the satisfaction of giving in and making this easy on him. He probably thought I’d give him no trouble. Poor innocent little Abbie, who has never even left her home state before. I can only imagine the picture of myself that I’ve painted. And I might not be cultured or worldly, but I’m not weak. And I’m not someone who can be easily manipulated.

Apparently I am someone who can be kidnapped and not be able to escape, though.

Crow decides that turning up the music a little is going to save the atmosphere, Ed Sheeran filling the car. Temper runs his hand over his bald head and stays silent, but I can see his mind working through his sharp eyes.

Always thinking, planning, and strategizing.

It must be exhausting. Good. I hope he falls asleep. Maybe I can jump out of the car. Then I look outside, realizing Crow is driving pretty fast and I’d probably kill myself or get run over if I attempted that.

“Do you have an idea when am I going to be able to go home?” I ask Temper, exhaling deeply, all the anger leaving my body.

“I don’t know,” he replies, turning to me. “A week, maybe two. I can’t say. But I can promise you that I will take you back home, safe and sound, after all of this blows over.”

I glance out at the highway, leading me somewhere new. I could look at this as an adventure, as an escape. I still feel guilty leaving Ivy to look after Mom and Franks, but it’s not like I chose this.

“What did Ivy reply to the message?” I ask, pursing my lips.

He pulls out my phone and reads the message out loud to me.

Ivy: Are you fucking crazy? Are you sure you’re okay? Where are you going exactly? What do I tell Mom?

Ivy: ABBIE?!?!?

He hands me back my phone. “I’m trusting you right now and giving this back. But I think we both know it’s in both of our best interests if you wait until this is all over before you head back home.”

Squeezing my phone in my hands, I consider his words. I don’t want to bring any trouble around Mom or Ivy, but would whoever they are really