ringing in my ears subsided, all I could hear were the screams—my own, and others’.
Then came the sirens.
“We’ve gotta go,” Brody shouted, pitching me to the ground. He and his friends made a break for the exit. By the time the police reached the bank, Brody and his team were long gone.
The paramedics rushed my dad to the hospital, but he was already dead on arrival. My mom and I held each other in the waiting room. The next day, the police questioned me for three hours, but Brody had trained me well. In the end, they simply apologized for my loss, and vowed to do whatever it took to catch the guys responsible.
I’m the one responsible, I wanted to shout. Brody may have pulled the trigger, but my father was dead because of me.
I pinch my eyes shut at the wave of remorse that rises into my throat. Now’s not the time for waterworks, I tell myself. I have to get what I need from this man and then get out of his truck before he realizes what I’ve stolen from him. I have some food, but I need a plan, and a plan is going to require more money.
“Do you live around here?” I ask, then cringe at how cliché the question sounds.
A few seconds tick by before the man responds. “I have a hunting cabin.”
“Cool. So do I.” Technically, it was my dad’s cabin, passed down to him by his father. And if you want to get really technical, he didn’t exactly to leave it to me.
According to my dad’s lawyer, the cabin where I spent every summer since I was born now belongs to some guy named Silas Walker. I’ve never met this man, never even heard his name. I can only assume my dad knew him before I was born and just never got around to correcting his will.
Right now, I couldn’t care less about Silas Walker, or whoever’s name is on the cabin’s paperwork. My dad’s old mountain cabin is the only place I feel safe.
After the robbery, I made yet another mistake in a series of huge mistakes. I broke up with Brody over text. When he showed up at my house to “talk some sense into me,” I said I’d turn him in if he didn’t leave me alone. Now he thinks I’m a threat, and in his words, the only thing to do with a threat is eliminate it.
A chill skitters down my spine. I gaze out the passenger-side window at the dark forest rushing by. Thankfully, Brody doesn’t know about the cabin. The only people who do are me, my mom, and some guy I’ve never heard of.
“My dad used to bring me out here when I was little,” I say, breaking up the silence. I study the man in my peripheral vision. He said he'd been driving for twelve hours straight. That's the whole damn day. He looks tired—but hopefully not too tired to get it up for me. “I really appreciate you giving me a ride.”
“Don’t mention it.” He taps the steering wheel restlessly. I wonder how many of those energy shots he’s had to drink. Shifting in my seat, I scoot a little closer to the center console.
“You’re sure you won’t take the money?”
“I’m sure.”
I turn the fan system down a notch, the gesture catching his gaze like wool on a cat’s claws. “Well, if you don’t want my money, then what do you want?”
“Nothing,” he says. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Are you sure?” I take a chance and rest my hand on his thigh, inches from the bulge in his jeans that I swear has doubled in size since I first climbed into his truck. I’ve never done anything like this before—I mean, I’ve given my boyfriend head, but he’s the only one. Offering to blow a guy I’ve only just met might be the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.
His hand tightens around the steering wheel. He’s probably thinking it over, imagining what it would feel like to have my mouth around his cock.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says.
For a second, I wonder if I’ve misjudged the situation, but the bulge in his pants seems pretty straightforward. I’ll admit, the fact that he isn’t dying to get into my pants does make me feel a little safer. If he was too eager, I’d be worried about his intentions.
“I know I don’t, but I want to.” I take a deep breath to quiet