Page 27

“Climb in,” Vega said as he pulled the door open on a large Suburban. “Let's go. Make it quick.”

I did as he said, slipping into the back seat. Vega climbed in behind me and shut the door. He tapped on the partition between us and the driver, and the vehicle took off. The tint on the windows helped ease the ache in my eyes. I looked outsideand watched as we pulled out of a dirt parking lot and onto a desolate road.

Vega stared out the window, too. He looked lost in thought, his mind wandering, suffering whatever plagued him in silence. I was tempted to speak but didn't want to interrupt his internal conflict.

“Well?” he finally said.

“Well, what?” I asked as I rubbed my hands between my thighs.

“You had a million questions before. Now you have none?”

“I still have questions. I'm just not sure what the right ones to ask are.”

“There are no right or wrong questions. I'll answer what I can.”

I veered my eyes and asked, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I'll answer what I can.”

Cryptic. Always cryptic. Vega never gave a straight answer for anything. Even at the gala. He was a puzzle, and I wasn't interested in putting the pieces together.

“Fine. Who are you really?”

“My name is Vega. That was the truth.”

I eyed him. I wanted answers for everything. I just didn't know if I could trust what he gave me. He might assume that a person in my position would lie about anything. I could say the same for him.

“Go on. Ask me something else.”

I pinched my lip as my eyes darted to my feet. “I don't know what to ask.”

“Okay. I'll make it a little easier for you. I'll tell you some of the things I know you want to know.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking.”

“You're right. I don't. But I know your questions.” Vega twisted in his seat so he could look straight at me. His mouth tightened, and his jaw clenched. “I'm a hunter.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he said, his mouth curved into a slight grin. “Think about it. It's not hard to figure out.”

My body stiffened as my eyes opened wide. Vega wasn't hunting deer or wild turkeys. He wasn't an animal control officer. He hunted people, and I was his most recent catch. I was sitting beside the devil. A man with no morals. He was a killer.

Vega reached out and touched my hand. I slapped him away. “Don't touch me!” I yelled. “I knew you were going to kill me! I knew you were evil!”

“Poppy, calm down,” he said. His voice was smooth and even.

“Don't tell me to calm down! Why me? What did I do?” My breathing became heavy and labored. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “You didn't do anything, Poppy. I didn't take you to kill you. I took you to save you.”

“Bullshit.” My voice was tempered with rage. “You lie.”

“If I was lying, you'd be dead already.” Vega smiled and chuckled. “I'm good at what I do. You wouldn't have seen it coming.”

My eyes met his, searching for falsehood and deception. He glared back, unwavering and still. “If you're not going to kill me, then let me go. Prove you don't want me dead. Give me back to my father. I can convince him not to press charges for kidnapping me.”

“You're not his daughter,” he said without hesitation. “Because he's not your father.”