Smolder (Georgia Smoke #6)

• Twenty-Four •

“That was my first lie.”

Royal

This wasn’t Florida.

I stood on the stairs of the plane as a coat was placed over my shoulders. Glancing down at it, I realized it was cold.

Where were we? How long had I been asleep, wrapped up in Amory’s arms?

“Go on down,” he said behind me.

I did as he’d told me to, only because I was sure there was an explanation. Maybe my dad had gotten in another semi and headed north. I’d been asleep and not known when he got the message. He came up behind me and placed his hand on my back, then pressed me forward as he started walking us toward a Hummer. Mountains surrounded us, and there was no airport or even a building. Just a long landing strip.

What was going on? Why would my dad come … here—wherever here was—and where had this Hummer come from?

Amory opened the passenger door and then picked me up to place me inside.

I stared at him questioningly. Was he going to tell me where we were?

He closed the door, then headed around the front to the driver’s side.

I’d woken up with a blissful warmth radiating through me. I had never woken up in anyone’s arms. It was an experience I hadn’t wanted to leave so soon. That moment was fading fast.

In its place was a creeping dread—or perhaps foreboding was a better description. The seconds that ticked by without Amory explaining to me what was going on, the more it crept in.

Had something happened to my dad? Did Amory not want to tell me?

The second he closed the door, I blurted out, “What is going on?”

He started the engine, barely glancing at me, but didn’t say anything. This was bad. He didn’t want to tell me.

My hands fisted in my lap. Was it Grams? No, we wouldn’t be here. Wherever here was.

The Hummer began to drive away from the plane, but the road that appeared wasn’t paved. It was a rocky dirt path. That was all I could see up ahead. Just the wild open. I’d never been to Alaska, but this was how I pictured it. This couldn’t be Alaska though. My father wouldn’t be here.

“Amory, why are we here? Where is here? Where is my dad?”

He glanced over at me again. “I can’t tell you where we are.”

What?

“Why?” I asked.

There seemed to be no logical reason why he couldn’t tell me our location.

“Because it’s safer this way.”

Safer?

“Okay, I’m going to need you to make sense. This entire situation is confusing. Where is my dad?”

“I know you’re confused, and I’m sorry about that. This is just how it has to be. I will answer all your questions as soon as we get to the cabin.”

What cabin? Was I dreaming? Still asleep on the plane, curled up with his arms around me? That was what I hoped was happening. I wanted to be back there, where things had made sense.

“Where is my dad, Amory?!” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“You don’t know? How do you not know? We were going to Miami, and from the looks of things, we are nowhere near Miami—or even Florida for that matter.”

The corner of his lips tugged up slightly, as if he wanted to smile. There was no humor here. Nothing to smile about.

“I never knew.”

Not what I had expected him to say. I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding or something.

“Amory, you’re starting to scare me.”

He reached over and placed his hand over one of my fisted ones. “You never have to be scared of me. I’d never let anything or anyone hurt you.”

The fierceness in the way he’d said it would have been sexy if I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. I had to calm down and think. This was Amory. The guy who had sent his grandmother to stay with mine. Gotten my Grams into a facility meant for the wealthy for free. He sent us food. Had my Vespa fixed. Bailed my dad out of jail. He hadn’t done all that for some master plan.

“If that is the case, then why can’t you tell me where we are and why?”

His thumb brushed over my hand in a caress. “I will. Just a little farther. I’ll tell you everything.”

Okay, fine. He wanted us to get to our location. I could wait. He would make all of this make sense. I was being dramatic. That was all.

Opening my hand, I let him thread his fingers through mine. This was good. I needed this. My tension eased, and I looked out the window at the wild outdoors we seemed to be driving through.

Was this Colorado? Wyoming? It was farther north than Tennessee. It had to be. It was cold. Much colder than a Southern October.

My mind played through several scenarios as we drove, taking a handful of turns on more dirt roads. He didn’t say anything, and I decided that maybe silence was best. There was something he needed to tell me, and I wanted to demand he tell me now.

Finally, we slowed, and he veered down a narrow path as branches brushed against the sides of the Hummer.

Where in the heck was he taking me?

My thoughts went back to all the criminal televisions shows I’d seen in the past, and I tensed up. No. Amory wasn’t going to murder me in the woods.

We came out of the trees, and a small A-frame cabin sat in the middle of a clearing. I looked around, and there was nothing anywhere else in sight. Just the building. Amory pulled up to it and cut off the engine.

“We’re here,” he told me.

I looked at him, and he flashed me a smile that reminded me he wasn’t a serial killer.

“I’ll come around and get you out. It’s high,” he told me before climbing out of the Hummer.

I reached for the door handle and opened it. Amory was there, and I let him take me by the waist and set me down.

He bent his head and inhaled the side of my neck, then straightened and released me. “Let’s go inside.”

He headed toward the door and pulled out a key from his pocket to unlock it. I stood back and watched as he opened it up, then stepped inside, as if he needed to inspect it. When he turned around, he motioned for me to come in.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla met my nose as I moved past Amory’s body and into the open area. Shiny hardwood floors that looked new were covered by large, shaggy beige area rugs. To the right was a massive fireplace with a brown leather sofa facing it and two dark red recliners on either side. To the left was a kitchen and dining area, and in the center was a spiral staircase, leading upstairs to a loft. It wasn’t much square footage, but everything in it was high-end. Even the appliances.

“Where are we, Amory?” I asked him again.

“Let’s start with that—my name. That was my first lie. My name is Sebastian Shephard.”