“Are you going to explain what the hell happened, or not?”
Francesca ignored her brother’s frustration as she climbed into the motorhome that Jonas had chosen to get them to his family’s territory.
She hated the fact that they were attracting some attention, and it was even worse that she didn’t understand what people were saying or thinking most of the time. At least the motorhome meant they had some privacy and that they wouldn’t need to interact with humans more than was absolutely necessary.
She shuddered as she looked out of the window after tossing her bag onto an uncomfortable-looking bunk and saw the young man who had tried to get her to move on the plane. He was waiting for a taxi, and he was sat casually on his bag as if it was a portable seat with a cigarette in his hand.
