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“You found her.” I smiled, too, but more tears fell. “You found me.”
Our eyes met, and we shared the pain dwelling between us.
“What happens now?” My fingers curled around his, still on my cheek.
He paused, like he had no idea, either, and then he said, “I take you home.”
Chapter 8
Aribella
Remi hadn’t taken us home like he’d promised, wherever home was.
Nothing looked familiar to me as we sped down the road in the stolen truck.
The speedometer told me he was going fast, surely over the limit by a considerable amount, but I had no idea what the limit was, so I stayed silent, snuggling deeper into the dirty chair that smelled like Candee’s cheap perfume.
The window became my friend, offering sights of beauty over the raging speedometer and the promise of death.
Trees zoomed past the glass, all different shades of green. Some leaves had a pretty rusted color to their tips. Some branches were sparser than others.
A dip in the road had me shifting with discomfort. I pulled at the hem of my hoody, forcing it lower down my thighs than it already was.
I squeezed my panda in my fist, my thumb rubbing over his soft fur.
“You doing okay?” Remi asked me, his southern drawl different from the voices I heard so often.
“We left the other girls there.” Guilt crept into my body and pushed those words from my mouth.
He breathed out a heavy sigh. “I know. I’ll go back for them.”
“Rothbart should be home tomorrow. He’ll be angry over what you did to his sons. You can’t go back there. We have to call the police.”
Remi had saved me, getting himself hurt in the process. I didn’t want him hurt again. I’d only just discovered I had a person who cared about me. I didn’t know what that meant, but he meant something.
I could feel it inside me, a feeling so foreign.
“No police, Cat.”
The guilt became heavier because without the police and with my desire to keep Remi from that house, the girls would never get out. They’d never see the trees from out here or the open road that could lead them anywhere, could lead them home.
“But the girls—”
“The girls can leave with me when I return for them.”
“He’ll kill you.” Something cracked inside me and then cracked some more when I remembered I’d killed someone, too.
“He’ll try, I don’t doubt it. But I’m not afraid. Blood is staining my hands already. I can handle it.”
Our speed decreased as the truck turned left, moving down a wide road to a house at the bottom of the decline, so big and distinctive it looked like some futuristic complex.
“This isn’t your home?”
“Fuck no. It’s appalling.” Remi side-eyed me, throwing over a silent question. Do you really think I’d like this silver monstrosity?
The house wasn’t that bad. It would be beautiful to many, with its center dome and stretched wings. But some people—me and, apparently, Remi—liked more classical appearances.
“It’s the home of Marico Rodregez. He’s a doctor friend.”
