Malefactor [H.S.]

9

It's been fifteen minutes since Harry and I got in the car. Fifteen minutes of not a single word being spoken between us. He's too busy on his phone the entire time, either typing away or taking phone calls that never last more than two minutes. The whole thing is incredibly strange, especially when he takes some of the calls and starts speaking in a language I can't identify. I'm pretty sure it's French, but considering I took the easy road out and took Spanish in high school despite being fluent in it, I can't be entirely too sure.

If only Riley were here right now. She can actually speak French pretty well and I would do just about anything to know what Harry's been saying.

The car coming to a stop grabs my attention. I look out the window, eyebrows puzzling together to see we're stopped on some side street and not at a light like I thought would've been the case. I try not to dwell on it too much, but my heart drops to my ass, however, when I realize Harry's unbuckling his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" I ask, clutching my own like I'm afraid he's gonna undo it for me and rip me out of the car.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Wait here," he orders, giving me no accompanying explanation.

The door to his side flies open and he steps out, not giving me a second look before slamming it shut. I try to watch where he's going but the windows in this car are tinted so dark that I can barely make out figures, sure as hell not able to distinguish which one he is, if any.

"Mr. Styles will just be a few minutes, Miss," the driver offers up. He smiles at me in the rearview mirror. It's clear that he wants me to take this lame excuse and run with it, but the feeling of utter despair settled deep in my stomach isn't satisfied.

"What's he doing?"

"Mr. Styles just has some business to attend to with the store. It won't be more than a few minutes," the driver repeats. The way his answers feel robotic and incredibly rehearsed makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I nod, deciding maybe it's better if I shut my mouth and stop sticking my nose somewhere it clearly doesn't belong.

It shouldn't surprise me that Harry's obviously tied up in some shady shit. Actually, it doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me, though, is the fact that Zayn's associated with him in any way. Zayn and Niall both, I guess, since Niall said they're all good friends. Everything I know about Zayn points to him being a genuinely good person. Sure, he did really piss me off today by telling Niall that we slept together, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and call that more of a temporary lapse in judgment than anything else. I'd also like to assume the best and say that maybe Niall and Zayn just don't know what's going on behind the scenes with their friend, but if Harry's willing to drag me along to whatever the fuck this is, I'd be an idiot to think that those two are completely in the dark with everything.

Harry reappears a few minutes later, a briefcase in hand. He lays it down on the backseat, holding my eye for a minute before buckling in like everything's perfectly normal. I almost laugh at the sight, feeling like I somehow wandered into a really cliché action movie. The car begins to move again.

"So are you gonna explain what that was or are we gonna continue to play dumb?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"You just randomly stopped at some store, went inside for a few minutes, and came back with a random briefcase."

"Thanks for the plot recap," he says dryly.

I shake my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming out in frustration. I have never met a man before that's purposely this annoying.

"I don't know why I agreed to come in this car with you," I mumble. "I should've taken my chances with the damn subway."

"We can stop and let you get out here then if that's what you want," Harry snaps. The car comes to a sudden halt, the driver holding my eye again from the mirror. I shake my head, waving my hand for him to continue.