Sawyer grabbed his bag, shook his head and muttered, “I’ll be waiting in the car, then.” He said nothing else, leaving the house. I followed him, because I didn’t trust him not to run. Not after that outburst. I watched him from the front patio, making sure he actually got in the car. He did, after he threw his bag in the backseat and swore loudly.
Sawyer Salvatore was going to rehab. Who would’ve fucking guessed it?
Chapter Twenty-Six – Ash
I practically flew out of the car once Will pulled into the driveway, leaving Declan to grab the bags out from the back. Will poked his head out of the window, asking if I wanted him to stay for a bit, but considering I didn’t know what the hell was going on, I said nothing.
Travis stood before the front door of Sawyer’s huge house, and I met him on the steps. He was smoking, having freshly lit one up. I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him that I missed him, but he looked tense, and he’d been ignoring my calls and my texts, the ass.
“What’s going on?” I asked, setting my hands on my hips as Declan moved around us to bring our bags into the house. We wouldn’t be allowed back in the dorms until Sunday. Campus rules, to save on electricity or whatever.
“Say goodbye to Will, and then say goodbye to the asshole sitting in the other car,” Travis muttered, inhaling deeply. When he breathed out, the breath was laced with smoke.
“What…” I turned, finally spotting the slumped over figure in the car parked in front of Will’s. Sawyer? My hands grew sweaty as I moved to the driveway. Will had gotten out of the car, though it still ran. I met Will. “You can stay if you want, but…” Again, I glanced at the other car.
Was Sawyer leaving?
“It’s okay,” Will said. “You can call me later, after this…whatever this is, is over.” He gave me a small smile, moving slowly as he placed a single kiss on my cheek. No romantic embrace, no passionate goodbye. It was fine though, because even though my mind had been in the gutter recently, the last thing on my mind right now was sex.
Once Will had driven off, I glanced to Travis. There was no sun in the sky, not today. It was a cloudy, cool day, and the weather made Travis look darker. More dangerous.
I moved to the side of the car Sawyer was in, opening the door. Or trying to, anyways. The bastard had it locked, his green eyes on me, even though his face wasn’t turned in my direction. He looked…like shit. He didn’t look like the Sawyer that was on the mend. He looked like the Sawyer of a few weeks ago, the Sawyer who could hardly hold a spoon without dropping it because he shook so badly.
My hand curled into a fist, and I knocked on the window as loudly as I could.
Sawyer pretended like he didn’t hear me, so I kept knocking. After a good minute of constant tapping on the glass, he finally frowned and pointed to the ignition, wordlessly saying he didn’t have the keys so he couldn’t roll down the window.
I pointed to the lock and said, “Get out.” Within a moment, I stepped back and gave Sawyer enough room to get out of the car. He didn’t look happy, but I didn’t care. “Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“I’m leaving,” he said simply, refusing to meet my stare. His eyes were bloodshot.
“You used again, didn’t you?” Didn’t know why I was asking; it was clear what he’d done. This was his guilty face. The bastard didn’t want to look at me and face my wrath. And then…then it hit me, what he said. “You’re…you’re leaving?” I wanted to laugh, because of course Sawyer would leave at a time like this. “Where the hell are you going?”
Leaving. For how long? For good? Was he transferring out of Hillcrest? Was this…was this it? Even though it shouldn’t, my heart hurt at the possibility of never seeing this fuckup again. This dick. I hated him. I hated him so much.
“A rehabilitation facility,” Sawyer muttered. His lips pursed.
Rehab? Sawyer was going to rehab? I just…I had no words, no thoughts.
“I…I need to go, Ash,” he whispered, his voice much quieter, softer than it was mere moments ago. He was no longer an angry Sawyer, no longer a Sawyer that didn’t want to look at me. This time, when his green gaze landed on me, I saw past what he pretended to be. This was the Sawyer I’d seen that day in the shower, the Sawyer who’d clung to me and cried.
This Sawyer needed help, and it wasn’t the kind of help any of us could give him, even if we tried.
It took me a while, but I eventually nodded, saying quietly, “You do. You need help.” I wasn’t the kind of girl who thought my presence could help a guy change. Even if I was a sparkling, perfect influence, Sawyer needed professional help. He needed to learn a different mindset, he needed…a lot of things.
What he didn’t need was my drama.
Sawyer looked over his shoulder, at Travis near the house. Declan was still inside. We were as alone as we could get, and maybe that was why he said what he said next: “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” His green gaze was back on me the next moment.
“Don’t be.” We weren’t together. He had nothing to apologize for. Not really.
Well, okay, he did, but I didn’t want to hear him say it. Not again.
“Everything I did,” he went on. “To you, to Declan. I…I fucked it all up, pushed everyone away, and now I…” He closed his eyes, obviously pained. This was the real Sawyer, and it pained my heart to see him like this. “I think I was wrong, about everything. I…just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”
His train of thought was all over the place. I asked, “What are you talking about?” It didn’t sound like he was talking about Ray.
“Sabrina’s note,” he whispered. “It didn’t blame Declan.”
I said nothing, not quite understanding what he was saying.
“It said D. Briggs. D. Just the letter.”
It dawned on me then what else that D could stand for. Hint: it wasn’t dick with a capital D.
Dean Briggs.
No. No fucking way. No—
But did I really know Dean Briggs that well?
“Everything I did, I know I can’t take any of it back,” Sawyer muttered, a shaky hand rubbing the back of his neck. The awkwardness didn’t suit him. “But you should know that I would. If I could, I would.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out.
“I didn’t want to see you before I left. I thought it would only make it harder, and I was right.” Sawyer shook his pink head. “Good luck with Ray.”
“Thanks,” I said, the awkwardness now taking hold of me. “You too…with rehab.”
“Thanks.”
Our eyes locked, and honestly, there was so much more I wanted to say, so much more I could tell him, but I swallowed it all down. Sawyer didn’t need any confessions. He didn’t need me to tell him that I cared for him even though he was a fuckup. He definitely didn’t need to know the stupidest part of me loved him in spite of it all.
No. I’d let him go. I’d let him go, and maybe this stint would do him some good. Maybe he’d come back a new man, maybe not. Hell, maybe I wouldn’t even be alive at that time.
Dean Briggs…
It couldn’t be, could it?
Sawyer said nothing else as he got in the car, and once he was sitting again, with the door between us, Travis began to make his way to the car, tossing whatever was leftover of his cigarette down.
Travis stared at me from across the top of the car, and I asked, “You’re making sure he checks in?” After he nodded, I said, “Good.” Good. This was anything but good, but there were no other words to say at this point.
I just felt…sad. Confused.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said. “Stay with Declan.”
It was my turn to nod, and then I watched them go. That, I realized, just might be the last time I’d ever see Sawyer. If things with Ray didn’t go as planned, if something happened, that might’ve been our last goodbye.
What a shitty goodbye it was.
Call me a wimp, but it felt like a piece
of my heart went with him.
I was slow to return to the house and inform Declan of what happened. I didn’t tell him about the D. Briggs thing, because I didn’t know what to think about that. Declan and I sat on the couch, his arm around me, and I let him process everything I’d said.
Finally, Declan said, “It’s good he’s going.”
“I know,” I spoke sadly. “I just…I wish we never got to this point.”
We grew quiet, and time passed us by. We sat near each other, cuddling, not doing anything more. Now wasn’t the time to get frisky. I felt too torn, too saddened. It was honestly because I felt so awful about it that I didn’t even think twice when I heard the front door open.
They’d left maybe an hour ago, and my first thought was: he changed his mind. He came back. Or he forgot something.
And then, when neither Declan or I got up, because we were so out of it and he was the last person on my mind, when we saw who it was, my stomach dropped even more.
Ray Ruiz was making his move today, here and now.
And he had a gun pointed right at us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Ash
“Ray,” I spoke, getting to my feet. Declan did the same, and he tried to step in front of me, which was stupid. If there was one person here Ray would shoot, it’d be Declan, not me. How the hell did he even get a gun? And why was I so wound up in Sawyer leaving that I forgot to lock the front door?
Not like it would’ve kept him out forever, but, you know, a bit longer.
In times like this, a bit longer might have meant the difference between life and death.
“If you shoot him,” I warned from behind Declan’s back, “I’m going to kill you.”
“Relax, amorcito,” Ray spoke confidently, far more confidently than he should, “I’m not going to shoot your boyfriend. You are.”
My heart nearly stopped at that, and Declan tensed in front of me. I sidestepped him, shooting Ray a glare. He stood fifteen feet away, too far to tackle, too far to lunge at. “What?”
“Either you shoot him, or I will, and I don’t think you’d like where I’d aim.”
“You give me that gun, I’ll shoot you instead,” I said, sounding not nearly half as confident as he did.
“Come here, Ash, and call my bluff.” Ray stood tall, his tanned face lined with stubble. Guns were so not his thing, knives and strangulation were, but he seemed comfortable holding onto the pistol. What type of pistol it was, I wasn’t sure. “If you don’t, I’ll shoot him anyways.”
Well, that much was true. There was no point in denying it.
I met eyes with Declan before slowly moving across the living room towards Ray. Once I was close enough, he flipped the pistol and handed it to me. It felt…lighter than I thought it would. I’d never held a gun before, but I always imagined them being heavier. The grip was warm from where he held it.
“Ash,” Declan warned me, but he didn’t need to. I knew this was playing with fire. This, no matter what I did next, wasn’t going to end well.
To be fair, I told Ray if I had the gun, I’d shoot him instead.
I aimed the pistol at Ray’s chest, and before I could think better of it or even prepare my body for the kickback, I pulled the trigger.
A blank, empty sound echoed from the gun, and it was only then that I realized the gun was fake. A fucking toy. And me, stupid fucking me, fell for it. So did Declan, but I was going to take the blame here, because what happened next—totally my fault.
Ray had a real gun hidden in the waistband of his pants, and he pulled it out, a long, slick-looking revolver that had six barrels. Six bullets would be two more than he needed to kill all four guys in my life. A look of disappointment crossed his handsome face. “Ah, mi amor, wrong choice.” His thumb clicked down the safety, and just by hearing the sound of metal on metal, I knew that gun was the real deal.
I dropped the toy.
“If you shoot him, you better shoot me,” I said, bold in the face of death.
Ray reached into his pocket, pulling out handcuffs. With his free hand, he tossed them to Declan, who simply let them fall to the floor. “On your hands and knees, or I will shoot.” He pressed the cold round tip of the revolver against my forehead.
That was all the incentive Declan needed. Declan lowered himself to the floor, reaching for the handcuffs.
“Your left wrist,” Ray instructed, and Declan clicked it on, though he shot Ray a puffed-up glare. “Ah.” He stopped Declan before doing the other. “Ash will do the other, behind your back.” He pushed me slightly, keeping the gun firmly pointed at me.
I did as he said, because at this point, I knew we were fucked. If we made it out of this house alive, I’d consider us lucky. Maybe I could still save Declan. Maybe it was my luck that had run out.
Once Declan’s hands were bound behind his back, I looked at Ray and said, “I’ll go with you, anywhere. Just leave him alone—”
“Oh, you’re right about that. You are coming with me,” Ray said, “but not before you tie his ankles.” In his other pocket, he held two zip ties. “One for the ankles, the other to bind his feet to his wrists. Keep him from chasing after us.” He tossed them at me.
“Ray—” I knew trying to reason with him was like trying to reason with a wild animal.
“No,” he said, and just by his tone, I knew better. I knew better than to keep prodding, so I took the zip ties and did as he said. Declan was effectively bound, helpless. Ray gestured for me to return to his side, but I hesitated.
“How do I know you won’t just shoot him anyway?”
“Because everything I’ve ever done was for you!” Ray shouted. “Because I let you run wild the last month, knowing you were with these boys.” He spat out the word. “But now it’s time for you to come home to me, Ash. I didn’t want to do this today, but with the others gone, I had to. I have to get you back, amorcito. I would do anything for you—”
“Let me go,” I cried. “I thought I was pretty clear when I stabbed you that we were broken up.”
“You can’t fight fate,” Ray said. “You are my fate.” When I made no moves to go to him, he added, “Let me show you what I’d do for you. Let me show you just how much you blind me.” This was Ray begging.
This was a man with a gun, and I had to go with him.
I left Declan’s side, causing him to say, “Ash, don’t—” I knew what Declan thought: they barely got me back the last time, and here I was going off with him again? Somehow, deep down, I knew this time was different. This wasn’t him offering to take me away from my problems. This was not like last time.
This time, it was go with him or die.
“It’s okay,” I told Declan, slowly moving towards Ray. I was stronger now than I was before. Whatever this led to, I’d handle it. I wasn’t going to fall apart again. This wouldn’t be round two.
“Your phone,” Ray said. “Leave it here.” The revolver still pointed at me.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and dropped it on the floor, watching as he reached into his pocket of wonders and pulled out a small cloth. He tossed it to me, and when I caught it, I felt it was semi-wet with something. A strong aroma wafted off it, reminiscent of a strong type of alcohol.
“Breathe in, Ash. Breathe in and give yourself to me,” Ray instructed.
Maybe the gun, maybe the obviously-chloroformed rag came from his old stash. Maybe he just knew where to get it, or how to make it. I didn’t know. I wasn’t a criminal. Even though I wasn’t a criminal, I knew enough to know, without a doubt, I was fucked.
Fucked if I didn’t breathe in the rag, and fucked if I did. Either way, I faced the unknown, a serial killer off his rocker. This…this could be my last day alive, or he could kidnap me and keep me locked in an underground bunker or shed for the rest of my life.
Still, I knew Ray’s show wasn’t over yet. He was more dramatic than this. I’d play his game for as long as I could.
I breathed in the rag, and then, soon after, th
e world went black. The last thing I heard was Declan calling out to me. Everything was black, my consciousness gone…
Until it wasn’t.
Until I came back into my own head, feeling like I wanted to be sick. Until my eyes flew open, and everything around me was as black as it’d been in my unconscious. My stomach was in knots, a dozen snakes coiling in my belly. I blinked, feeling something hard and scratchy below me. My legs were bent.
There was a bit of light, coming from…a small crack beside me, I realized once my eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Wait a second. Was I locked in the trunk of a car?
I flexed my fingers, finding that I was not restrained. Just knocked out and shoved unceremoniously into a car, apparently. I hit the metal trunk above me, trying to knock it open. There wasn’t enough room for my legs to kick out. My head, foggy as it was, knew I had to get out of here.
This…Ray really had lost his mind. Not that he was sane before, but this—this was worse.
It didn’t matter how much I pounded. The trunk didn’t budge, and I couldn’t find the lights to kick out. Didn’t matter if the car wasn’t moving on the road anyway, which it wasn’t. Under me, the car made no movements, no steady hum of its engine. It was off.
Time moved slowly, or maybe it was fast? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care, not until the trunk abruptly opened, and Ray’s stern face stared down at me. Behind him, the night sky was alive with stars, though the moon was covered with clouds. The temperature had taken a sudden nosedive, and I shivered, not having anything on but a shirt and pants. The night sky meant I’d been gone for hours, trapped in that trunk, passed out. I didn’t think Ray did anything to my body, but then again, it was hard to know for sure.
Travis was back at the house by now. And Declan—
“If you hurt—” I started, my voice dry.
I was not in the superior position here, and Ray knew it, which was why he cut in, “I’d be more worried about what’s going to happen to you right now, amorcito.” Calling me amorcito still—that was a good sign, wasn’t it?
Psycho: A Dark College Romance (Hillcrest University Book 4) Page 20
