Hell Breaks Loose: A Devil's Rock Novel by Sophie Jordan Page A

again.
    He shut the heavy door with a slam, walked around the van and climbed up behind the wheel. He adjusted the rearview mayor
     so he could see her, then drove out of the yard. The van bounced along the unpaved the road.
    “How far is it to the nearest police station?”
    He flitted a look to the mirror before training his gaze on the dirt road stretching in front of them. “We’re pretty far from
     anything.” Not exactly an answer. Definitely not the truth. But it was enough for now. All he was going to explain.
    She inferred what he intended, and he bought himself a little time. She worked her wrists free and tossed the cord aside.
    Eventually he would have to explain the way things worked. She wouldn’t like it, but it wasn’t as though she had a choice. He
     didn’t break out of jail to play hero. He had saved her life. That was good enough for now. She would go home eventually and
     have an adventure to tell her future grandchildren. Maybe they’d even make a movie about her life.
    He’d keep her safe. That was the only promise he’d made her.
    He had to honor the promise he made to himself first.
    He had to kill Sullivan.

Eight
    The blanket offered little comfort beneath Grace. She felt every bump as she bounced against the van’s steel floor. By the
     time they reached the smooth ride of paved road, she was sore and knew she would bear the bruises for it. Still, she felt
     only relief to be leaving that house with all its scary, dead-eyed men behind. She had only one man to contend with now.
    And he was an escaped convict.
    She’d heard that as clear as day back in the house. Her life was in the hands of a man who had escaped from prison. She clung
     to the memory of Shawshank Redemption . Plenty of those convicts had hearts of gold . . . and honor. Great. She was holding him up to Hollywood fiction and Morgan
     Freeman. That was realistic.
    She scooted forward and peered at him between the two front bucket seats, wondering how long until he stopped. How far could
     the nearest police station be? There had to be some type of law out here. A sheriff’s department or something. Obviously,
     he might not feel comfortable walking her inside himself, but he could drop her off a block away. Even a mile. He didn’t have
     to turn himself in because of her. She could assure him of that. Hell, she didn’t even have to say anything about him at all.
    She waited as long as she could stand it and then asked, “How long will it take to get there?”
    He shot her a quick glance and then looked back at the road, one hand draped idly over the steering wheel as though this were
     just a Sunday afternoon drive. She stared at that hand for a moment, briefly recalling the feel of it on her skin before she
     gave herself a hard mental shake and banished the image.
    “Few hours.”
    “Hours?” She frowned. “There has to be some sort of law enforcement closer than that.”
    Again he glanced at her in the rearview mirror. It was a moment before he answered, “We’re not going to the authorities.”
    She processed that as the van rumbled beneath and around her, vibrating up her bones to her very teeth. “I don’t understand.”
     Her voice was getting shrill, and she swallowed, fighting for a normal tone. “Where are we going?”
    “You’ll be safe,” he said. Again.
    He’d said it to her when they were in that bed together, and she’d believed him. She believed him then because he could have
     hurt her a thousand different ways and he hadn’t. Nor had he let the others hurt her. That had been enough then, but now she
     wasn’t so sure. An uneasy feeling started in the pit of her belly. For all she knew, he was taking her to a grave out in the
     desert.
    She wet her lips. “Where?” she repeated.
    He stared straight ahead, not looking at her. “It’s best you don’t know where we’re going.”
    Silence so tense it crackled filled the interior of the van. Understanding sank in, followed by dread.