Page 102 of Secret Love

“Are we sure this is going to work?” I ask. “Mercer isn’t stupid.”

“No, but it’s the only idea I have.”

I turn off the water and Darla wraps a towel around her hair. “And you weren’t kidding about it being a bad one…” I peel the gloves off and toss them into the trash below the sink.

“Dani…”

“I mean…” I step into the dorm to face him and point back at Darla. “This part will probably be fine. It’s the other part that’s got me nervous.”

“You can do this, Dani.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“I’ve shot targets before,” I argue.

“It’s the same thing. I know how that sounds, but it’s true.”

I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. “Think she knows any boy prostitutes who look like you instead?”

“I am not a prostitute!” Darla shouts from the bathroom. “I’m a call girl.”

“Sorry,” I say.

She pokes her damp head out and her short, black hair falls over her eyes. “It’s okay. And to answer the question: no, I don’t know any.” She flicks on her hairdryer and disappears again.

Fox lays his hands on my shoulders as I heave a thick sigh. “Dani, look at me.” I do as he says, peeling my eyes off the floor. “You can do this. I trust you.”

“What if I miss?” I ask.

“Then, try again.”

“But what if—”

“Dani—” He moves his hands to my cheeks, making sure to be gentle with my bandage. “I know you’re scared.”

“Understatement.”

“I will not let anything happen to you,” he says, holding my eyes. “Say it.”

“You won’t let anything happen to me.”

“Or me!” Darla shouts from the bathroom.

“Or you,” he says, his eyes flicking toward her once before coming back to me. “You just have to slow him down. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Let’s just pretend all this goes well,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We haven’t really talked about what happens after…”

He drops his gaze for a brief, but noticeable, second. “No matter what happens, I will get you and our parents home alive.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you.”

“I know.”

The hairdryer shuts off and Darla steps into the room. “How do I look?”

She throws up her arms and poses in the doorway. Jet black hair. Cherry red lips. A white bandage across her left cheek to hide the lack of stitches.

I nod and force a smile. “You look like Roxie Roberts,” I say.

She snatches my sunglasses off her desk and slides them up her nose, looking smug and satisfied.

“We should get going,” Fox says.

I exhale, disappointed that he won’t answer my question. I’m not sure why I ever expected him to in the first place.

I’m not even sure if I’m prepared for his answer.