"You must spend a fortune in carbon offsets," I said as I allowed the strange man to walk me to the Hummer. He clutched my hand as hard as I held on to his. Like a lifeline.
At my question, he looked over at me warily and shook his head. "No."
It was a strange answer. My cousin always wanted to portray a normal existence in his day-to-day life. Most people who met Westley never realized he was the leader of the underground criminal organization because he seemed legitimate. Did this guy get to drive around in a Hummer and Westley not make him buy carbon offsets?
Criminals. Why did he have a hummer at all? Westley never let his guys drive one before, so why send someone to rescue me in one now? Public image was important and normally he made conscious choices. These questions floated around in my mind, but the danger flags weren’t flying yet because the man was still holding on to my hand as if I was the most precious thing in the world.