Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,87
me. I just need you to get into the car and help me with this one little thing. I’ll have you back here in a jiffy.”
His eyes are skeptical. “You’ve never once used the word jiffy. You’re not a ‘jiffy’ kind of guy.”
I lean over and push the door open, forcing his hand.
“You really aren’t going to tell me where we’re going?” he asks as we start pull out of his neighborhood.
I smile, big and wide. “It’s a birthday surprise.”
He fully believes me until we cross the highway.
“You aren’t taking me to Chuck E. Cheese’s, right? Because Arianna already took me and—”
“Shockingly, no.”
“Okay, well, you just crossed under the highway.” He points out the window for proof. “Did you take a wrong turn?”
I don’t reply.
“Are you taking me to that seedy strip club in the bad part of town? Because while I appreciate the gesture, bro, I’m not really looking to spend my birthday at Solid Platinum. That place is haunted.”
I turn off the main road and down another side street. My hand is gripping the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles are turning white. I might be a little nervous. Down another side street, the neon sign for Murphy’s glows in the distance. Motorcycles and trucks are parked out front. A few guys smoke near the door. They’re probably the ones who “witnessed” my fight with Mac and came to his defense. I swear they’re all wearing leather jackets with mean expressions. I can’t be certain, but one of them looks as if he’s sharpening a knife.
Ben jerks forward in his seat.
“Murphy’s?! Seriously?”
He tries to reach over to grab the steering wheel and I fend off his tepid attack.
“Hey! Cool it! I’m about to drive off the road!”
“Good! I’d rather end up in a ditch than in that bar again.”
“I have a reason, and it doesn’t involve fighting anyone!” I say, holding his arms at bay. “I just want to talk to Mac.”
“Talk? There is no talking to Mac! He used to be a normal kid, but now he’s an angry psycho, and sorry to say, I know you’ve been working out a lot, but he’s bigger than you.” He holds his hands out around his waist. “Just rounder, you know, from all the fast food. C’mon, I’d really prefer to not have my best friend get killed on my birthday.”
I pull into the parking lot and turn to him. “I have this idea, and it’s not a good one, I’ll admit that—”
“All right, I’m glad you see reason. Put ’er in reverse and let’s head back to the party. I bet Arianna’s all done inflating the balloons which means she can move on to blowing something else.”
Instead of doing as he asks, I unlock the doors. Andy reaches over and frantically relocks his like monsters are about to break in. Hell, maybe they are. The guys near the door watched us pull in and park. My SUV doesn’t exactly blend in out here. I should have parked down the street or something.
“This is stupid. They’re going to kill you and dump your body. I’m going to have to run our damn firm all by myself.”
“No they won’t. They’re not murderers. Just—”
“Look!” Andy shouts, pointing out my window. “The cops are already here arresting someone else! Probably for murder!”
I jerk my attention to where he’s pointing and sure enough, three police officers are escorting a guy out the front door in handcuffs. The light’s not great out here, so it takes me a second to realize one of the officers is Madison’s brother.
Oh good. We can continue what we started this morning, round two of Hart vs. Rosenberg.
“Look, see? That’ll be you. If you go in there, you’re going to get arrested again. Mark my words.”
I ignore him and watch as Colten steers the guy toward the waiting police cruiser. I’m wondering if I should wait until Colten’s gone before I get out. I don’t really want to get into it with him right now, but then I take another look at the guy they’re arresting and my attention snags on his shoes.
My breath stops short.
I know those shoes.
I’ve seen those shoes.
I yank my car door open and slam it closed behind me before I fully realize what I’m doing.
Andy’s yelling at me to get back in, but my pace only picks up.
“Don’t be stupid! What are you doing?!”
This is the guy.
This is Madison’s attacker. Those faded red sneakers with the black laces—they’re the same pair I described