The Moth and the Flame (When Rivals Play #2) - B.B. Reid Page 0,11
ice off their windshields. Wren approached a running silver Toyota Tacoma and ordered me to get in.
“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me, aren’t you?” I asked in a hushed tone over the hood.
He stopped and turned to me with his eyebrows bunched. “What?”
I clutched the straps of my backpack tighter. “I’m a loose end, so you have to kill me. It’s in the gangster handbook.” The blank stare he gave me didn’t make me feel any better. I frowned. “Don’t you guys have like a code or something?”
His head cocked to the side. “If you believe I plan to kill you, why do you care if the neighbors know about it?”
“Why the hell would you think I cared?”
“You’re whispering, mouse.” I could tell he was holding in a laugh, which only added to my humiliation.
“Oh.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said after a long, uncomfortable silence.
My gaze fell to the ground, and I sounded heartbroken when I said, “I don’t believe you.”
I heard the snow crunch, and then his large booted feet appeared in front of me. A cold finger lifted my chin, and then my teary gaze met his stormy one. “I promise.”
My next breath and “Okay” rushed out of me.
He stared at me for a few seconds longer, and I had a feeling he was looking for any remaining doubt. Finding none, he moved around me, opened the passenger door, and waited for me to hop in before closing the door. I watched him walk back around the truck to his side, and the expression he wore told me he wasn’t happy with himself. My gut told me it was because he’d made a promise he shouldn’t keep.
“So,” I said as I buckled in, “what are we shopping for, Renny?”
His head whipped around, and he frowned. “Renny?”
“You dishonor my name, I dishonor yours.”
His eyebrows wrinkled. “What’s wrong with Lou?”
“What’s wrong with Renny?”
“It’s stupid.”
“I concur.” I smiled innocently.
He winced and backed out of the driveway. Neither of us spoke until he pulled into a shopping center ten minutes away. There were a ton of people already out, probably scavenging for last-minute supplies. What we got last night was mild, although it would have had those pussies in the south running for the hills or boarding up their houses. I silently cursed when I counted the days until spring and realized we still had six more weeks of winter.
He hopped out, and I followed him across the parking lot. I grew self-conscious of my appearance when we walked into a clothing store, and I noticed the dirty looks directed my way. Wren seemed oblivious as he headed for a rack of coats in the women’s section. I had trouble swallowing as I wondered about the girl he was buying a jacket for. A foreign feeling washed over me, and I knew it had to be jealousy. If he turned around right now, I wouldn’t be able to hide it, and the part of me without pride wanted him to see it.
Would he break it off? I couldn’t help but hope that he would, and at that moment, I learned three things about myself I hadn’t known before.
I was possessive, selfish, and completely irrational.
Then again, maybe these feelings had been born rather than freed. I’d only known Wren for less than a day, and already, I could feel myself changing, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was for the better.
I had only just managed to school my features when he glanced over his shoulder. “You going to help or not?”
As casually as I could, I asked, “Shouldn’t you call your girlfriend—or whoever you’re buying that for—to help you?”
He turned away from the rack with a scowl so fierce that I involuntarily took a step back and then cursed myself for cowering.
“Girlfriend?”
“Or whoever,” I repeated.
His expression evened out, and then he chuckled as he rubbed his lips with his forefinger. “I was just talking about fucking you not even an hour ago. What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”
“Men are dogs,” I pointed out with a shrug.
“Not. Me,” Wren growled as if I should have known.
I stared back at him in disbelief while wondering if I’d offended him or if ‘pissed off’ was just his default. “I just met you.”
He looked me up and down and not in the slow, appreciative way I pretended not to like. “So you did.” Turning back to the rack, he angrily ripped an olive green coat from it. A lady in the next