Page 190 of Broken by my Bully

“It is,” Bastian says through a dark chuckle. “But you won’t scream, will you, Haven?”

My breath hitches, because he’s right.

I’m not.

“Good girl.”

We left Agony Hollow behind half an hour ago. Every mile takes me further from help. From witnesses. From anyone who’d care if a scholarship girl disappeared with her professor.

The sky’s only grown darker since, but we pass through a few shafts of angelic light on our way out of town. I like to think it means there’s a possibility I’m not ending up hacked to pieces in a shallow grave somewhere.

I should freak the fuck out, but honestly, I’m hoping Professor Rooke will just keep driving until we hit a coastline.

I’ve never been to the beach.

Me and Kai planned to live there after we got married. But we also said we were going to have thirteen children, and that sure as shit isn’t happening.

He’d have to actually put his dick in me, for one, not just rub up on me like he did last night.

“Tell you one thing, though,” Bastian says, dragging me from my miserable thoughts. “If I’m going to prison, it’ll be for something a hell of a lot more interesting than kidnapping.”

“Kidnappingandtorture?”

“Hm. Now we’re talking.”

His musing hum makes my stomach flutter, but I try to ignore it. I’m having to ignore a lot of sensations since I got in this car.

Like the rising dread when I realized he was headed toward Ashwood Crossing, a town almost double the size of Agony Hollow.

I know it well.

It’s where I’ve spent the last three years of my life.

On my back, legs spread, according to Kai.

I thought wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag me back here. All it took was a Tesla.

Thankfully, we’re in the nice part of town. My uncle’s apartment was way on the other side, near the train tracks. Conveniently close to the station and, more importantly, the drug dealers.

There’s a chuckle in Bastian’s voice. “If you think what’s about to happen is torture, I advise you to seek counseling immediately.”

He pulls up outside a row of small businesses alongside the main road, parking so effortlessly, I’m low key convinced the car did it for him. But then he wouldn’t have swung his arm around the back of my chair and given me a wink as he reversed, I guess.

“Only way that’s happening is if you go back to private practice, Professor.”

He chuckles as he gets out of the car, throwing his hands up when I’m already out my side before he can open my door. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“I try.” I sniff, hands on my waist. “You have ten seconds to tell me what we’re doing here, or I’m screaming.”

There’s a moderate amount of traffic flowing past us,and some people out on their own mysterious errands. Maybe that’s why Bastian finally caves and holds up a hand.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t guessed by now.”

My gaze follows his arm—his strong, perfectly toned arm—to the sign above the shop a few yards away.

LARAMIE

It could have been anything from a bistro to an antique store. But if I had to take a wild guess, it’s a boutique.