Chapter Eight

Nina

I didn’t speak to Eli throughout the ride back to Hinton, and not because we were breaking the sound barrier and my head was trapped inside this stupid helmet. I didn’t speak to Eli because he was a conniving psychopath. I hated him even as I clung to his back. He’s stalking my dad! He’s beating up people who are probably totally innocent! He might even be torturing them for information they can’t give! Oh, my god, and I let his cum inside me. What if he’s not even my stepbrother? I guess that would probably be an improvement on the situation, but he’s still crazy!

My face throbbed with anger as we coasted across the city limits. The stars were long-gone behind a smokescreen of smog.

The motorcycle slowed as we lapped one of the blocks in Montclair Square. “Tell me where to go,” Eli’s muffled voice called to me through his helmet. “I don’t know where you live.”

“Good,” I snapped, flipping my faceplate up so he could hear my every word clearly. “I don’t want you to know where I live.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you snooping around my apartment building, probably breaking all kinds of privacy laws, spying on my goddamn father!”

“JP lives in the same building?”

“No!” Damn it. “But I still don’t want you there, Eli, if that is your real name.”

“Okay, well, I’m not going to drop you off in Darkmont,” Eli scoffed, like I was being premenstrual. “No fucking way.”

“I walk from Montclair all the time,” I lied. But the passion in my voice was real. “I’ll be fine. Drop me off at the bookstore.”

I hoped I did get mugged, because it would prove my father’s innocence if a Freak attacked me. How dare he walk into my place of business and try to covertly track down my father! How dare he fuck me as he builds an investigation against the man.

“Look, Nina. I’m not crazy. I’m a trained fighter. It’s a long story, but I’ve been disarming these Freaks and interrogating them. Humanely. I’ve got enough information to be confident in my theories here. I’m not some wacko, pasting together headlines on his basement wall, looking for codes. I’ve been pursuing the Freaks since the fall.”

“Since the fall? So, what, a month? Two?”

“Four.”

Paper Treasure loomed at the end of the block. “Let me off.”

“Nina—”

“I said let me off!”

Eli exhaled loudly but pumped his brakes and let the bike slow. I struggled to climb off before the wheels even came to a complete stop. I stumbled onto the cement and pried off my helmet immediately.

Eli lifted up his own faceplate. “Don’t be like this, Nina,” he said, his voice softening. “Don’t endanger yourself for a piece of shit like JP.”

I shoved the helmet into his arms. “My dad is not a piece of shit,” I growled. “And even if he was,” I added, reconsidering my hard stance, “that’s not illegal. What are you going to accuse him of? Being a dick sometimes?”

“Extortion,” Eli noted lightly, off the top of his head. “Racketeering definitely. Gambling. Probably some animal or human rights violations.” He tilted his head back, scouring his memory—or his imagination—for more. “Conspiracy. Theft. Probably money laundering. Probably fraud.”

“Jesus! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I shook my head and whirled, hobbling off with great determination in my high heels and tight jeans. I let out a laugh, unable to control how high-pitched and manic it sounded. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. I wanted to turn around and keep fighting with him, but I knew it would be circular. Just keep walking. “My dad runs stores all over the city. That’s his job.” I marched down the sidewalk toward Paper Treasure. “He’s a fucking businessman. Jesus. I can’t believe this shit.”

I glowered over my shoulder, still hearing the soft sound of the motorcycle’s engine.

Eli lingered several yards behind me.

“Stop following me!”

“You know what? Fine.” Eli flipped his faceplate back down and revved his engine pointedly. “Good luck.” With that, he kicked back onto the road and disappeared around the next corner.

I sagged and exhaled a cloud into the cold air. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re cold and alone and in danger. But at least Eli is gone.

The thought wasn’t as warm as I’d expected it to be.

In the alley across the street, two shadows lingered and returned my stare. I was highlighted under these streetlamps for any thug to target. My pride was going to get me killed.

I quickened my pace. Voices murmured in the distance. I wished for Eli to come around the corner on his bike again. Wouldn’t he? Wasn’t he the type?

Light washed over the sidewalk and my heartbeat quickened, hopeful for Eli. I turned and saw a yellow taxicab trundling closer.

Oh, well. Better than nothing. I stuck my hand into the air and whistled.

The cab drifted to the curb and let out a woman wearing a tiny dress and big hair. She must’ve been freezing.

“All yours,” she whispered to me, throaty and suggestive.

I scrambled into the backseat of the cab and slammed the door. “Master Heights,” I panted to the driver.

“You’re a long way from home, little girl,” the driver said, chuckling to himself.

As the cab took me toward the north side of town, the slums of Darkmont steadily fell away, replaced with the bright lights and clean storefronts of the good side of town. Sympathy for Eli welled up in my heart.

He was the one who lived and worked in that ghetto. I couldn’t judge him for wanting to do something about it when no one else would.

But my father wasn’t his kingpin.

And I could prove it.