Page 67 of On Edge

We don’t speak for most of the journey. Mundel switches on the radio while I drum my fingers on the seat.

I’m tense, my nerves on edge, with Troy’s phone stuffed in my pants because Kathy’s two-piece doesn’t have pockets, and I wasn’t wearing the raincoat when I came downstairs. It’s not too low; it’s just below the waistband, sitting against my hip. I had to turn it off because Troy kept calling his own phone around thehouse looking for it. I do not need incessant buzzing right near my groin.

When we drive past the signs for the shopping center, we keep going, into Old Fleet, and then pull up into a cramped alley behind a row of towering Victorian buildings.

My stomach tightens. “Where are we?”

He shoots me a bored look. “Where do you think? The address your mother sent.”

“This doesn’t look like a wedding dress boutique.” It looks like a place where people disappear. Mundel is going to get rid of me in this dark alley.

But he rolls his eyes. “We’re at the rear entrance. There’s no parking on the main street in the old town.”

“Oh.” I chew my lip and look around. My heart still skips several beats, but I take in a breath to calm it. Will I ever shake the feeling of being trapped?

Buried,Nell whispers unhelpfully.

Then it occurs to me I’ve screwed up. I hoped we were going close to the mall in New Fleet, where I’m supposed to be meeting Laine, not Old Fleet. “How far is the mall from here?”

“The mall?” He raises a brow.

“Is it close?”

“No.” Mundel glares at me. “I was told to bring you to the wedding dress shop and that’s what I’ve done.”

“Kathy said I could go shopping.”

Mundel grumps. That’s the only way to describe it. “That woman can say what she likes; I have my orders.”

When I don’t move to get out, he sighs. “Is there a problem, Ms. Lovett?”

“Nope.” I pop the p, trying to convince myself it’s not. I’ve no idea how I’m going to meet Laine, but I’ll find a way.

“Wait.”

I pause and look back at Mundel, nerves frayed. Has he changed his mind?

He offers me a sleek, gray credit card.

“What is it?”

“It’s called a bank card, Ms. Lovett.”

I chew my lip at him. I know what a bank card is. “I mean, why are you giving it to me?”

“The boss told me to give it to you. Unless you have your own money to pay for the wedding dress?” He sneers at the wordwedding.

I shake my head and take it, tracing my finger over the wordsMeridian Vaultsetched along the bottom.

I read once that they were the oldest private banking institution in the world, with links to the Lucians, the secret society that tried to kill Lainey. You have to be a billionaire to have an account with them.

I pocket the card, trying not to tremble. It’s cold to the touch.

Of course, it’s metal, not plastic.

“I’ll be waiting out here in an hour,” Mundel says gruffly.

He’s letting me go alone, at least. With a weak smile at Mundel, I clamber out before he can change his mind.