Darryl holds up a box. It’s wooden, about six inches long, four inches wide, and four inches deep.
“Congratulations on your nuptials, you two. Now come on over to ol’ Darryl. I’ve got a gift for you.” He jerks his chin. “Hold out your hands.”
“Why do you want?—”
Darryl lets out a sound that could’ve been a laugh, but that reminds me more of a wild animal’s growl. “It’s just your hand, boy,” he interrupts Chase. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna bite it off or nothin’.”
That thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. You can be sure as hell it does now.
Remembering Maverick’s warning, I start to do what Darryl says, but Chase stops me. Releasing me, he brushes his fingers along the side of my hand, gesturing for me to put it back down.
“Here,” he says, holding out his own once I do. “Whatever you have for us, you can give it to me. I’ll take it for Alexandra.”
“Ah, look at that. The outsider’s a real gentleman. I like that. But your new wife had the right idea. Give me both of them.”
Wife.
Wife.
Wiiiiiffe.
Oh, fuck no.
How did I not remember that? So preoccupied by the idea that he “won” me, I forgot how East Jersey regards a man and the woman he’s responsible for. He’s my husband, I’m his wife, and I’m surprised my knees don’t buckle beneath me.
Marry Chase?
Marry my twin’s longterm love?
Even if it’s a jailhouse wedding… I can’t.
Ican’t.
The steely look in Darryl’s mud brown eyes says: yes, you can.
I gulp, slowly lifting my hand up again. Maybe I want to get this over with so that I can get out of this room, find my clothes and my pack, and figure out a way to escape; maybe I just want to show Chase that he doesn’t really own me, that I’m not about to let him tell me what to do; or maybe I don’t want to give Darryl a reason to punch me again… regardless, I put my hand up.
“Good girl,” Darryl says approvingly. “Now, close your eyes. Don’t peek. I get real pissed off when the newlyweds peek.”
I swallow my moan at the word “newlyweds” even as I screw my eyes shut.
I hear Darryl rustling in his box, followed by the sound of something metal clinking together; it reminds me of a fork and a knife scraping against each other. When the noise stops, Darryl grabs my hand and places something cool and heavy around my wrist. A softoh!escapes from Chase before a pair of creaks and clicks and Darryl’s satisfied chuckle.
“You can open your eyes again.”
“What the—” I start, while Chase breathes out one word, “Handcuffs.”
He’s right.
We’ve been handcuffed together.
I jerk my hand. It holds. The weight of it is enough that I’m sure they’re real. These aren’t a pair of chintzy handcuffs you get from a store. Oh, no. These are honest-to-God handcuffs that had to belong to one of the prison guards or something.
“What?” I breathe out. “Why?”
“Just a little precaution, Miss Alexandra. Here in East Jersey, our weddings are simple. He bought you at the auction and that makes you his wife. But it don’t count until the wedding night. Once you consummate your union, we’ll find you two a place to set up house. Until you do that, I’m keeping you together so that no one thinks you’re up for grabs. You should thank me.”
Thank him.