I can't say when there's going to be another update. I have a very very sick pet to take care of and will be focusing all my attention on her. So, I can't say when the next update will be, my apologies.
And an early, Merry Christmas!
I'd like to say that since we kissed there's been some kind of unsaid understanding between the two of us. That we've developed a kind of affection toward each other and are now getting along better.
If the fact that I was handcuffed to the car door and Ryder had moved his gun from his holster to his lap was any indication, that was not the case.
We'd said our goodbyes to Sarah and started down the road. We had maybe gone a total of ten feet before the arguing started.
In my defense, it's completely his fault.
I simply asked him if I could drive. I was unaware that letting me drive is a cardinal sin in his eyes and he'd rather drive the car straight into a ravine. Apparently, the control freak can't stop acting like an ass long enough to let me drive.
Since I couldn't drive the car, I decided to drive him crazy.
Somehow the idiot had managed to wrestle with me and handcuff me to the door without ever straying off the road or crashing. I was actually impressed and then pissed because he'd handcuffed me once again.
He then threatened me with his gun when I purposely continued to clang the metal bracelet into the car door repeatedly.
I stare out the window at the passing scenery as Control Freak Stevenson continues to drive, his gaze fixated on the road. My attention strays from the scene out the window and on to the car's radio.
"Don't even think about it," Ryder says. He doesn't even glance my way, or at least, I don't think he does. I can't see behind his sunglasses.
I narrow my eyes at him. "I would like something else to listen to other than your voice. It sounds like a dying cat."
"Someone's clearly in a good mood," He says sarcastically. "I don't want the radio on. I want to listen."
"To what? The sounds of me dying of boredom?"
"That would be worth listening to," He replies.
I get the unmistakable urge to hit him.
I glare out the window, wishing he'd just disappear in a puff of smoke.
Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. "Ryder?" I say. "How did Volkov know where I was?"
Ryder turns his head to look at me. "I don't know. I didn't have the chance to ask him. When I do I'll get back to you."
I glare at him as he stares straight ahead at the road. "I'm serious Ryder. There was no way for Volkov to know where I was."
"There was also no way for me to know where you were, remember?"
"Yeah but you-" I cut off abruptly. You put a tracker on me.
"But I, what?" Ryder asks me.
How could I be so careless? How could he be so stupid?
"Where does the signal go?"
"What are you talking about?" Ryder questions, confusion lacing his tone.
"The tracker. The glasses. Where does the signal go to?"
My irritation with him goes up a couple notches because of his tone.
YOU ARE READING
I can't keep the smile off my face as I take my seat on the plane. I slide my bag under the seat and lean back. I close my eyes and let a blissful smile grace my face. He said I wouldn't be able to run. As if. I'm vaguely aware of someone taking the...