CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
If the woman hadn’t been so damn rude as to park between pumps, I might not have laughed when she absentmindedly began driving away while the nozzle was still attached to her car.
I pulled up to one of the grimy pumps, turned off the ignition, and climbed out of the car … right into the scents of gas, motor oil, and exhaust fumes. Call me weird, but I’d always liked the smell of gas. Yeah, that was weird.
A teenager whistled at me out of the window of an idling car, but it was a wonder I heard him over the music filtering out of the RV in front of me. My mouth thinned at the receipts, paper towels, and cigarette butts littering the cracked pavement near the pump. Did people not realize that gas + cigarettes = a major fucking no-no?
The machine beeped with each press of the buttons as I slid in my card and paid for the gas. Grabbing the rubbery nozzle handle, I inserted it snuggly into the gas port, selected what grade of gas I wanted, and then pressed start. As I watched the numbers on the dial spin and listened to the gas gurgling through the hose, I found myself yawning.
Damn, I was freaking tired. I’d gone on yet another trip to the mall with Sarah, and I was sorely regretting it. I preferred to shop online, which she failed to see the beauty of, since crowds didn’t bother her one little bit. But lies? They bothered her, which was why she was once again not speaking to Bastien.
See, that was another reason why I was regretting that we went to the mall—we happened to catch sight of him at a nearby coffeehouse with Tara. As he’d told Sarah he was going to see his mother, she was pretty pissed off. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Sarah had stayed out of sight and called him to casually ask where he was. After all, it was possible that he’d just bumped into Tara while out and about, right?
He’d lied again, telling her he was having coffee with his mother. Would he never learn?
Sarah had predictably lost her shit and was now hiding in her old bedroom at her parents’ house, refusing to take his calls. I’d offered to stay with her, but she’d wanted to be alone for a while. Respecting that, I’d eventually left—but not before asking Dodger not to do as he’d threatened, which was to “fuck up Bastien’s pretty face with a crowbar.”
There was a ‘click’ as the pump cut off, snapping me out of my thoughts. Once I’d removed and replaced the nozzle, careful to avoid any drips of gas getting on my shoes, I recapped the gas tank and gripped my receipt.
Sparing Rossi—who, after buying some munchies from the station, had returned to where he’d parked across the road as he waited for me to finish—a quick wave, I then slid into my car. It was entirely possible that he hadn’t seen my wave, though, due to the drizzle of rain dripping down his windows. Thankfully, it wasn’t a heavy downfall, but the shit weather made the air feel thick and heavy.
As I drove out from under the roof of the gas station, fine rain steadily pinged on the glass windows. I switched on the windshield wipers just as I pulled onto the main road.
No more than a minute later, my phone rang. On the car’s navigation screen, I saw ‘Blake Calling.’ As he’d paired my cell phone to the car via Bluetooth, I was able to take the call using the hands-free phone system.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Hey baby, you still with Sarah?”
“No, I’m on my way home.”
“Good. If Bastien calls you, don’t even answer the phone. He might think you’ll tell him where she is. I don’t want you getting dragged into their shit. It’s his mess, he can fix it on his own or not at all.”
I’d already planned not to answer any calls from Bastien. I liked the guy, but I wouldn’t be able to resist giving him grief for being a lying bastard. Then it would just be awkward when he and Sarah finally made up—which they eventually would do. I was starting to think they both got off a little on the angst. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in getting involved.”
“I warned him in the past not to draw you into their drama. But if he can’t find her and gets desperate, he may just be dumb enough to risk his front teeth. I know I’d do what it took to find you if the situation was reversed.”
I smiled. “You know better than to lie to me again. I could so easily make your life hell.”
He chuckled. “The only way you’d make my life hell is if you left it.”
Aw, that was sweet.
“There was another reason I called you. It turns out you were right.”
“About what?” Because he didn’t sound happy about it.
“Linton is, in fact, Laurel’s Ben.”
I cursed. That meant bad things. For one, it showed that Linton hadn’t given up. Two, Laurel would pitch a fit. Three, Blake might just lose his mind, and I didn’t want to visit him in prison.
“He’s at Emma’s house right now, oblivious to the fact that she recognizes him,” Blake continued. “I’m on my way over there now.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”
“No.”
“No?” I echoed, my tone clipped.
“I don’t want you near anyone who is potentially Ricky’s ‘Friend.’ In any case, Linton wants access to you. I have no plans to give him that. Go straight home. I’ll be there soon.”
“But Blake—”
“Straight home,” he reiterated. Then the line went dead.
“Fucking asshole.” Okay, yeah, he made sense. It wasn’t smart for me to be near Linton. Even if his only objective was to ask me questions for his book, it would be bad for me to go see him—it would be essentially rewarding his shitty behavior. Still, I didn’t have to like that Blake made sense.
Sighing, I continued en route to the apartment. The rain had started to pick up now, which didn’t improve my mood at all. And as some of the windows were distorted by the drizzle, I couldn’t even properly enjoy the scenery along the quiet road. Most people would have called it bland with all the grassy land and stunted trees, but I liked it. The lighthouse was a very pretty sight.
When my eye caught headlights flashing in the rear-view mirror, I noticed that Rossi had stopped at the side of the road. Frowning, I reversed the G80 and poked my head out of the window, letting in the scents of rain, grass, and wet earth. “What’s wrong?” I asked, grimacing as drops of rain hit my hair and slid down my collar.
Standing near his car with his phone in hand, he shrugged. “Don’t know. Engine just stuttered to a stop, if you can believe that. I’ll have to call road assistance and wait for someone to come tow it. You go on home.”
“I’m not leaving you out here on your own.” And I wasn’t stupid. Someone could have tampered with his car to separate us. It wasn’t likely, but I wasn’t taking any chances. “You might as well come sit in here with me while we wait.”
He waved a hand. “I’ll be fine, Kensey. You go on home.”
“Just get in the damn car.” Shivering as the cool wind feathered through my hair, I ducked back into the G80 and called Blake. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. He didn’t answer. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again, but the same thing happened. He probably thought I was calling to complain that he’d insisted I go straight home.
Rossi slid into the passenger seat and said, “Road assistance might not arrive any time soon. You sure you want to wait with me?”
“Positive. I don’t want you sitting out here alone.”
With a sigh, he clicked on his seat belt. “Drive us to your apartment. I’ll have Greg meet us there. He can bring me back here. I’ll likely make it back before road assistance shows up.”
Figuring he was right, I nodded. “Okay. Let me just try calling your asshole of a boss one last time.”
Rossi’s lips twitched. “Why is he an asshole?”
“He’s ignoring me.” I explained that Linton had been posing as Laurel’s boyfriend and that he was currently at Emma’s house, where Blake intended to confront him. “He doesn’t want me there, so he’s being an asshole.”
Rossi’s chuckle only annoyed me more. Beneath the sound of rain pattering on the pavement, I heard the faint rumble of a vehicle as I once again tried calling Blake. The phone rang and rang yet went unanswered, so I bit out a stream of loud inventive curses that made Rossi laugh like a loon and—
Tires screeched, I saw the impression of a red blur in my rear-view mirror, and then it sounded like the world exploded just as something slammed into the car. The seat belt snapped taut, jerking me back with a painfully sharp yank. And then we were launched into the air and everything went sideways.
Time started to slow down. Each time the car crashed to the ground, there was excruciatingly loud crunching and grinding. Glass shattered and blew inward. My head snapped from side to side. My body bashed into the door over and over. Items sailed in front of my vision. At some point, a white cloud exploded outward, thrusting me backward. Airbag.
Then everything went still, even my heartbeat.
Silence.
Except for the ringing in my ears.
Stunned, I just sat there. I didn’t know what the hell had just happened. Like there was a fog in my mind. I felt as if I was floating. Completely detached from whatever happened.
Darkness crept around the edges of my vision, and I thought I’d black out. I didn’t.
Numb and dazed, I could only stare dumbly at the absolute mess around me. Bits of glass, an empty coffee cup, my purse, the air freshener, and the documents from the glovebox—all of it was scattered all over the place.
Where had the windows gone? Why was warm water dripping down my head?
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t make sense of anything. Couldn’t process any of it.
I thought I could hear a hiss of smoke, but the ringing in my ears was too loud for me to be sure. The gas didn’t smell anywhere near as nice when mixed with burned rubber. I pushed at the airbag, grimacing at the chalky feel of it, and watched dazedly as it deflated.
Why did my head hurt like a bitch? I touched the burn on my temple, and my fingers came back with blood.
Blood.
I started to shake. Badly. Couldn’t seem to get enough air as the fog around my thoughts abruptly dissipated, and a wave of sheer panic hit me. The car had flipped, I remembered. Some motherfucker in a red truck had driven us off the road.
The realization sent my heart racing. I could hear it thrashing in my ears. Could feel the adrenaline pumping through me. My breaths turned quick, uneven, and shallow. Little flares of pain now made themselves known all over my body.
Fuck, I wanted to get out. Get help. Get—
Rossi.
Pain streaked up my neck as I tried to quickly turn my head to look at him. Spitting a curse, I squeezed my eyes shut. That had been a bad idea. Slowly, I twisted to look at him. My stomach sank. His body had slumped forward, and there was blood all over his face. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not.
As I unbuckled my seat belt, white-hot pain lanced through my wrist, and I froze with a sharp intake of breath. Jesus Christ. Breathing through the agony only brought me new pain, since my chest felt like it had been battered—no doubt thanks to the seat belt. I tried reaching over to test his pulse with my good hand, but my fingers were shaking too hard.
“Rossi, wake the fuck up. We have to get out.” I struggled with the door handle, leaving smears of blood. That was when I heard it: the sound of shoes scuffing over gravel. My heart jumped. “Rossi, we have to get out.”
Choking back a sob, I again wrestled with the door handle. Tremors were running through me, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, shock, or both. I also didn’t care. I just needed to get this damn door open. Come on, come on, come on!
Glass crackled beneath boots, and my heartbeat stuttered. Finally, the door burst open. I felt a moment of victory … until I saw him standing there, and I realized that it was him who’d opened the door, not me.
Ricky Tate smiled. “Not looking so pretty now.”
I recoiled and kicked out at him, but he moved fast. He dodged my leg, grabbed my arm, and yanked me out of the car. As he dumped me on the ground, my sore wrist hit it hard and took the impact of my body weight. Pain exploded from my wrist to my shoulder, and stars burst behind my eyes. I gagged, sure I’d be sick, but then something slammed into my back. A boot. The pain distracted me even as it made me hitch in a breath.
I’d kill him. I would. I’d kill the little fucker.
With that uplifting thought in mind, I tried to get to my feet. The moment I got to my knees, a boot slammed into my aching chest and sent me sprawling backward. I hit my head on something. A rock? I didn’t know. But it hurt like a motherfucker and made my vision swim.
Hands slid under my armpits and began dragging me backward. The long, shimmering wet grass slapped at me just as the sheet of rain fell on me, drenching my hair and clothes. I weakly squirmed and writhed, trying to get free, but all it did was make my shirt ride up. The wet, ridged pavement chafed the skin of my back, making it burn.
The watch, I thought. I needed to push the fucking button! My mind had been so consumed by first shock and then panic that I hadn’t even thought of—
He dropped me, and my head hit the pavement with a horrible crack that seemed to reverberate in my skull.
“I can’t have you giving me any trouble now.” His fist slammed into my temple, making the world spin, and then everything went dark.