Page 2 of Angels Fall

His face went serious. Instantly. And then he pressed his lips together, swallowed hard, and nodded his head. “Promise, Mads. I’ll always come back. And if you ever need me, I’m there, OK? You just call and I’ll be there. K?”

I nodded, reluctantly. He gave me a kiss on my forehead, winked at me, and then… he was just gone.

Evan comes into the kitchen, bringing me back into the present with him. “Yo,” he says, making Scotty forget we’re in the middle of a conversation. “Are we gonna hit the strip club or what? If we have to do this, let’s get it over with. Maybe I can meet some confused and lonely traveling salesman or something.” He claps Scotty on the arm, and Scotty turns to me.

“We’re gonna go,” he says. “Hey, look at me. I love you. Don’t worry about Tyler. He’s an idiot.” And he smiles that smile that always disarms me. Except this time.

I give him my best non-forced/forced smile and nod. And he gives me a hug and takes off.

“Tyler shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep,” I whisper as Scotty goes.

But Scotty misses it. He’s already over by Evan with his back to me. Already thinking about the night ahead of him.

Already gone. I just didn’t realize it yet.

PRESENT DAY

“Do you know what I do with girls like you, Madison?”

I roll my eyes at Carlos’ rhetorical question. We’ve been driving forever. I’m getting the feeling he’s not gonna kill me. He’s got other things in mind.

He can’t see my reaction. I’ve had my forehead pressed up against the rear passenger window ever since we left Vegas.

“People who cheat me out of money, promise to pay me back, and then go back on their promises?”

I never promised him anything. I’ve told him all along that it’s not my fault. And besides, I’m not the one who breaks promises. I’m not the one who leaves for basic training and never comes back. I’m not the one who fucking refuses to pick up the goddamned phone when someone dies. Or come home for the funeral. Or fucking… give a goddamn shit.

“It’s not a rhetorical question,” Carlos snaps.

Oh. “Well.” I sigh. “I assume you probably kill us.”

“Usually,” he says. “But I like you, Madison. And that is why you’re here. I believe we can come to an… understanding.”

Great. So it’s probably gonna be torture or rape. Or something equally cool, like sex slavery. I can’t wait.

The car slows and we turn into a long driveway that leads up to a sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion. I try not to look interested, but I can’t help it. I’m at Carlos Castillo’s compound. And even though I should be more afraid than curious, I just can’t muster up the proper level of fear.

Not after what happened last night. After… Tyler.

Why did it have to be him?

I mean… I liked the guy. Ford the lumberjack, that is. Not Tyler the abandoner. I liked that Ford persona. I liked that he never asked too many questions, and he knew just how to fuck me, and he didn’t judge me for being a stripper.

I told my mom about him. Jesus Christ.

“Madison?” Carlos says.

It’s only then that I realize we’ve stopped and everyone is out of the car except me. The guy who was riding in the passenger seat, that other guy who came with Logan the last time they tried to get me—

When Tyler saved you, my angel says.

When Tyler knocked the guy the fuck out and made everything exponentially worse, my devil corrects.

—is holding my door open and Carlos is extending his hand, like I’m his fucking date or something, and he’s gonna help me out of the car.

I don’t take it. Just slide out, still wearing my stupid Reservoir Dogs t-shirt—Tyler’s t-shirt, it even fucking smells like him—and yellow yoga pants that most definitely belong to some long-forgotten slut he once fucked.

“After you, Miss Clayton,” Carlos says.