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“How do you know I’m a dropout?”
“I saw your college ID. I’m guessing a whore like you studied dicks instead of classwork.”
When she scoffs and goes silent, I know I’m right.
Fabric scrapes against metal as she pulls the curtain across its track, separating us the only way she can. Is she planning an escape? Will I have to kill her here and now instead of handing her over to The Nameless?
The endless questions grind to a halt when gentle pressure lands against the front of my jeans. My torso jerks forward, and my hat falls to the floor as I escape her touch.
Abso-fucking-lutely not. I can’t handle touch like that. Besides, she’s just trying to butter me up so I’ll lower my defenses and she can run off. That’s also not happening.
My cock remains limp as can be, even as her big green eyes look up at me from her knees. Her hand moves toward me again, but I swat it away.
“Don’t touch me,” I say.
When she put her hand on me, it felt as if she’d wrapped her fingers around my throat instead of my dick. I don’t remember why I have such a visceral reaction to touch.
My memories are black boxes in my mind. I know they’re there, but there aren’t labels or pictures to remind me of what waits beneath the locked lids, and I can’t access their contents. Tobin has the keys. But even if my mind can’t reach into those dark places and bring those memories into the light, my body recalls something about that touch.
The girl doesn’t listen, though. She reaches for me again. Sweat slicks my skin and my heart thunders in my ears as my arm draws back. Before I know what’s happening, I’ve backhanded her in the face. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, that’s all. If I wanted to hurt her, I’d have hit her with more than my hand.
She flies backward, and her back crashes against the leather passenger seat. “What the fuck!”
I shake my head and try to calm my breathing as I stare at her reddening cheek. I tried to warn her. She was told to stop, but words weren’t convincing enough.
The backs of my eyes begin to burn, but I can’t lose control right now. I have to set up this meeting with The Nameless, and that won’t happen if I’m not in the driver’s seat. Jax would be too busy hugging her and apologizing, and Tobin would just want to fuck her again.
I stand up and grip her by the hair as I lift her to her feet. “Don’t fucking touch me like that. Don’t ever touch me. Do you understand?”
Her fiery green eyes rise to mine as she struggles within my grasp. “But you can touch me?”
I didn’t. I wouldn’t. And I don’t know how to explain that. There’s absolutely no drive for me, and even if there was, it’s not like I can perform.
“If I touch you, it’s different,” I snarl, “but don’t initiate shit yourself. If I want to use your whore body, I will be the one to start it. If you try that again, the only thing you’ll touch are the clods of earth I throw on your dead body.”
That seems to drive the point home, and she stops struggling. “I need to pee,” she whispers.
I let out a low growl, but I need to piss too. Keeping my hand within her hair, I drag her toward the passenger side door, pull the keyring from my pocket, and unlock the glove box. Within the compartment sits a beautiful 1911 with a wood grain grip. I like pretty things, what can I say?
I grab the gun and hold it in front of her face, keeping the barrel pointed toward the window. Safety first, after all. “If you run, I’ll shoot you before you make it six feet from me. Allowing you to piss is a kindness. Do not mistake it for weakness. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she says.
I help her down from the truck, and she shifts her weight between her feet as if she’s been holding her bladder for ages. This could all be another ploy, but I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt for now. If she tries to run, she won’t get very far with a bullet in her spine.
We walk toward the brick building squatting beside the parking lot. I keep her close to me as my mind works to sort through what I’m up against. Some rest areas staff attendants around the clock, but this building has already been locked up for the night. I can tell because the lights are off inside. The restrooms are on the outside—the men’s room on the left and the women’s room on the right. The lack of an attendant is a good thing. She can’t scream for help, and I won’t have to shoot two people instead of one. The distance between the two restrooms, though? Not great.
“Go in the men’s room,” I say as I stuff my pistol down the back of my pants. I didn’t see any cameras as we approached, but sometimes they’re hidden well.
She sighs and walks into the men’s room. I follow her until she’s inside the stall, then I head to the urinal. When she starts to piss, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe she wasn’t plotting after all.
The metal roll in her stall is already squeaking as she pulls paper from the holder before I’ve even finished. Before she can flush the toilet, I bear down on my bladder and piss a little faster.
The hinges squeal as the stall door opens, and she licks her lips as I look over my shoulder and meet her gaze. Then her eyes fall to my undone pants. Seeing an opportunity, the little bitch bolts for the restroom door.
“Fuck, fuck,” I say beneath my breath. I shake droplets of urine from my cock and put it away so I can chase her. She can’t escape. She’s seen my truck. My face. And even though I didn’t fuck her, I saw the note Tobin left behind, meaning she also has my DNA between her legs. Once it goes through CODIS, the great state of Ohio will issue a warrant.
I race out the door and scan my surroundings. It’s dark out here, and even darker toward my truck and the woods just beyond. When footsteps crunch through dead leaves, I know which way she’s gone.
