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He took off at a sprint, and I forgot him and Ricochet could fucking run.
Gamble, Ricochet, and I hurried to the edge of the course toward the campground.
Gamble stopped, pulled his cell from his belt, and put it to his ear. “Yeah.” He paused, then said, “Got it. We’ll wait for you.”
After he put his cell away, he looked at me. “There’s two campers, but one’s a burned out shell. There’s an ATV next to the newer one, and a GMC Acadia parked in front. Nickel recalls seeing Duane drive that vehicle.”
Ricochet gave a slow nod. “There isn’t much room inside a camper. I’m letting all the air out of his tires while you get her out.”
I shook my head. “I like that thought, but if she’s hurt, we need to be able to drive her out, not carry her all the way back to the SUV.”
Nickel joined us, breathing hard. “Let’s get this shit done.”
Chapter 25
Absolve Your Sins
Mickayla
“You’re going to pay, Mickayla,” Duane said.
He stopped for a stop sign. Then he stomped on the accelerator.
The engine revved. It sounded strained and I wondered if he’d slipped it into neutral because we weren’t moving. I couldn’t see if the RPMs made it into the red zone or not. As much as I loved my little car, if he red-lined my engine, we’d be stranded just a couple blocks away from On a Lark. That would be much better than going to wherever he was taking me.
The car suddenly shot forward, and that idea was dashed.
“Don’t you want to know what you’re paying for?” Duane asked.
To play along or not play along. I couldn’t trust myself not to antagonize him.
Out of nowhere, he backhanded me in my mouth. I let out a yelp and leaned away. My lips stung. Out of reflex, my tongue darted to the corner of my mouth and I tasted blood.
“I asked you a question. I expect an answer, Mickey-Mick.”
Between the pain and hearing him mutilate a nickname Killian had given me when we were kids, I broke. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming, but I’d be damned if I let my breath hitch or worse, sob.
“What am I paying for?” I whispered.
He glanced at me and back to the two-lane road. “You’re paying for breaking people up.”
On the one hand that begged the question, who did I break up, but on the other hand, I hadn’t broken up any couples. Even with Tundra, it wasn’t me who ended that relationship. We never crossed the line - and had Sarah or Tundra been serious about salvaging their relationship - things would have been different.
The comment seemed strange coming from him. Yet, something about it felt oddly familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Cat suddenly got your tongue? The flirty bartender who has a comeback for everything has nothing to say for herself.”
Something told me, he’d hit me again if I kept quiet.
“I didn’t break anyone up,” I said in a small voice.
He slowly turned his head to me, his lip curled up in disgust. “You did. Right before Christmas, too. Such a nasty thing to do at the holidays.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. Even though that timing lined up with me and Tundra getting together, he didn’t know that we’d had a fling.
Or did he?
Fear skittered along my spine like a wayward bug as realization dawned. His accusation of me breaking people up felt familiar because the podcast Lark had listened to said the Pub-Crawl Serial killer was the triggered by women who were so flirtatious they threatened people’s relationships.
