A few minutes later, my stomach tightened when I saw Malcolm’s car turn into the parking lot. He parked a few spaces away and stayed inside, hands gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on my windshield. The sight made me uneasy instead of relieved.
He got out and walked toward me with a stiff stride. “Why are you sitting out here,” he demanded. His tone sounded more like accusation than worry.
I replied calmly, “I needed air.” Then I added, “You told me to ask someone else, so I did.” His eyes narrowed immediately.
“Who did you call,” he asked. The question landed heavy with implication. I looked at the phone glowing in his hand and felt my pulse spike.
“Did you track my location,” I asked quietly. He looked away for half a second before answering. “Do not be dramatic,” he said. “We share accounts.”
I crossed my arms and said, “That is not an answer.” He shrugged and replied, “I needed to know where you were.” His voice hardened as he added, “Do not embarrass me by involving the wrong people.”
My phone vibrated again. “I am here,” Julian texted.