by Holly Hart
“Say you won’t leave me.”
“Christ’s sake, Wes!”
And now he’s bearing me down, hooking his leg around mine to cut my knees out from under me. And that can’t happen—I cannot be on the floor with him, under him; never again. I land a vicious kick to his ankle. He yelps, stumbles, and doesn’t let go... He’s worse than an octopus. He’s a boa constrictor, squeezing the will to live right out of me. I grab the counter for balance, staggering when it buckles under my weight.
“I never killed Dev. Why can’t you believe me?”
“That—ow!” I jerk as his nails dig into my thigh. “That’s not even the issue! So you didn’t kill Dev—the rest was still you. Still heinous.” I’m panting, squirming in his grasp. This is a nightmare: it has to be. Any second, the room will fill with water and turn into my office. And I’ll be naked.
“Haven’t I been a good friend?” Wes lets go of my leg and wraps both arms around my shoulders. “Didn’t I come through for you after your wedding?”
“The one you ruined?”
“Apart from that, though?—haven’t I?”
I elbow him hard. There’s no reasoning with him, and this gross little slow dance is over.
“Kate!”
“No. Fuck off.” I wrench one arm free and ram the flat of my hand into his nose. He falls back, bleeding, and I grab the lantern off the table. “This is for Kyle!” I bash him round the earhole and he goes down hard. His knees crack on the linoleum, then his shoulder, as he crumples on his side.
“Ow...help....”
“Help yourself.” I snatch my phone off the floor and walk out. It feels good to slam the door on him, better still to break into a run. By the time I reach the car, I’m going full pelt. He’s left the keys in the ignition—was he always planning on spiriting me away tonight? Jesus—is his dad even sick? Was this all some grubby bid for my affection?
“Fucking Wes!”
I zip my jacket up to my throat to hide Wes’s blood: last thing I need is to get pulled over looking like a serial killer. It’s on my face, too, a great gory smear down my cheek. I scrub it off and tramp on the gas, tearing up what’s left of the lawn as I peel out. Can’t get away from here fast enough. Wes!—it was Wes; Max was right, and I need to warn him. Who knows what Wes might do, confronted with the man I chose over him, not once but twice?
I’ll pull over and text him, but not yet. I want out of town, need that distance between me and the horrorshow at my back. The hell...the hell’s wrong with him? It’s like there’s a piece missing, the piece that understands...understands people, what it means to be human—How could he think I’d have left with him, after everything he did? And all because I laughed, not even at him, but at the situation, the absurdity of it, and he fucking laughed, too—I don’t get it.
He must’ve been like this all along. That weird, naïve way about him, that wasn’t sweetness, or even awkwardness; it was...emptiness. Just a great, sucking void in the middle of him, dragging us all into its depths.
I swing the car off the road at a gas station. My phone’s down to its last sliver of battery life, but I manage to squeeze off a text: HOLY FUCK WES DID IT!!!!! Am safe, driving back now. Look for me!
The dead battery screen flashes and my phone goes dark. I mash the home button—damn it, I need the cops here, like now—but no joy. Fuck. He’s going to escape, and who knows what he might do, denied his happy ending? The look in his eyes when he came for me... There was nothing sane in that. Nothing reasonable.
Max is on his way, and he’ll have his phone. With any luck, he’s close: I need this over.
I goose the gas and leave Lake George behind me, hopefully for the last time.
Chapter 44
Max
* * *
This was the worst idea I’ve had all week. All year, maybe. The road’s swimming in front of my eyes, and there’s...eugh. Some asshole—he’s blinking his highbeams at me. Didn’t think it was possible to get carsick in the driver’s seat, but I’m regretting those spring rolls right now. All that grease, churning and bubbling and—shit; is he following me? Because they’re in my rearview, now, those fucking highbeams. He pulled a U-turn, just to harass me?
I swallow, tasting bile. My whole head’s throbbing. Shouldn’t be driving; shouldn’t be anywhere but in bed, but Kate—
I shout out loud as he honks at me. My head’s going to split, just splatter like a watermelon, all over the windshield. And he’s pulling up next to me, waving me over—what the—“Kate?”
Oh. Kate.
I pull over. My front bumper scrapes the embankment, jarring my head and setting my teeth on edge. Can’t see—can’t concentrate—but this means she’s okay. This means....
I close my eyes, open the door, and fall back in my seat. Not going to throw up in front of her. Definitely not going to do that. I’ll rest my eyes, let my head cool down, and...Who am I kidding? I’m not doing any more driving tonight. I’d kill someone, or myself. Or myself and someone else.
Cool air hits my brow as the door swings open.
“Max? You all right?”
I let my hand fall to my side. She takes hold of it, bless her—Kate. “Wasn’t s’posed to be driving. Getting over a concussion.”
Her other hand’s on my face, petting my cheek, pushing my sweaty hair out of my eyes. “Carson did this?”
“It’s okay. He didn’t... It wasn’t him.” My tongue’s all gross and swollen. I lick my lips. “I mean, he hit me, but I deserved it. He’s not the blackmailer.”
“I know. Didn’t you get my text?”
Text? “Uh....” I grope for my phone, but I’m not sure where I left it. “It’s Wes.”
“Yeah, no shit.” She unbuckles my seat belt. “Move over. I’m driving us back.”
“What about—?” I wave at where her car’s probably parked—I can’t see for shit.
“It’s Wes’s. Let him pay the tow.”
I clamber over the gearshift, sick and clumsy, flopping into the passenger seat on my side. Takes me a minute to untangle myself and get buckled in.
“Do I need to get you to a hospital?”
“No. Just the mother of all headaches. Better with my eyes closed.” It is—or, at least, my stomach’s stopped threatening to jump out my mouth. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Who, Wes?” She turns the ignition. “Not physically. Kind of tore the roof off my world, though.” Kate’s lips twitch downward, like she wants to cry, but she just pulls off the shoulder and swings back toward the city. “The words coming out of his mouth—you wouldn’t believe it. He said he loved me. And he killed Matt Danbury—like, intentionally.”
“Mm....” Not going to puke.
“Ugh. You don’t look so good.” She squeezes my shoulder, quick and firm. “Get some sleep, okay? We can talk when you’re feeling better.”
That sounds...smart. Smarter than driving two hundred miles in the dark, with a head injury. I close my eyes and concentrate on getting my churning gut under control. Pretty soon, I’m drifting: it’s been a long day. And it’s over now...right? Or—not?
I turn my head her way. “Wes.”
“Hm?”
“What happened to him?”
Kate grips the wheel a little tighter. “I don’t know. I hit him and ran.” She pulls out her phone. Swears under her breath. “Still dead. Did you find yours?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Fuck him. He’ll have to wait.”
Yeah. Let him wait. I stick out my tongue, desperately thirsty now the sickness has worn off. “Don’t suppose you have water in that giant purse of yours?”
That startles a laugh out of her. “I do, in fact.”
I reach for her purse. “Can I?”
“Have at it.”
I rummage till I come up with a bottle of Perrier. It’s flat and piss-warm, but it feels like heaven going down. My headache’s finally receding, bundling itself back into the lump on the back of my skull. A good n
ight’s sleep, and whatever comes next, I can handle it.
Kate turns on the radio, and that helps too. Chopin: always soothing. Kate used to play for me, in high school—wonder if she still does? If she’s got a concert grand in that fancy apartment of hers—if she entertains London’s fashion elite with Gershwin and Debussy, while the champagne flutes clink in the background?
I gesture at the radio. “You still play?”
“Yeah.” She smiles. “You used to like that.”
I decide not to tell her I had to hurry out of a party, just last year, when some dickbag pianist struck up. She doesn’t need to know how my best memories turned against me. Not now, when she has to be going through the same thing, looking at everything she thought she knew about Wes in a new and ugly light.
“Want to hear you again some time,” I say, instead.
“Whenever you want.”
She’s choking up, too—I can hear it in her voice. She must feel so betrayed: she always stuck up for him. Always went the extra mile. Can’t wait to get off the road, somewhere I can hold her through the night. That’s what I need. Darkness and sleep, and Kate in my arms. And Wes behind bars, but that’ll come soon.
I’ll make sure it does.
Chapter 45
Kate
* * *
I’d laugh, if he wasn’t so pale. Max is like a big kid, stumbling through the foyer half-asleep, whining when I try to coax him up the stairs. It’d be easier to dump him on the couch, but I’m not letting him out of my sight. Not while he’s like this. If Carson was around, he’d be getting a piece of my mind right about now.
“Come on. Lift your foot.”
Max snorts and reaches for the banister. “Coming—I’m coming.”
“Well, come a little faster. I’m tired.”
He breaks out in a loud guffaw. “In another context, that kind of remark could crush a man’s ego.”
“Uh-huh....” I roll my eyes and keep moving. Max picks up his pace as well, and soon we’re stumbling into his bedroom.
“Gimme a minute.” He blinks and rubs his eyes. “Got to check my e-mail. Work....”
“Can’t that wait?”
“Nope.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Just take a second.”
“It better.” I’ve heard that before. I’ve said that before. If he’s not in pajamas in the next ten minutes, I’m confiscating his laptop. I shrug out of my own jacket and start unbuttoning my top. It’s ruined, smeared with blood and snot—Wes really wiped himself all over me. Goddamn—
“Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“You should, uh....” Max turns around, pale and tense. “You need to come look at this.”
What now?
Max steps aside as I lean over the desk. The bottom drops out of my stomach. His desktop background’s been changed to a still of the seven of us on the beach. It’s from the night of the fire: our sickly, pinched faces leave no room for doubt. And there’s text over top, three lines, all caps—
* * *
DON’T THINK THIS IS OVER.
I STILL KNOW EVERYTHING.
AND NOTHING MATTERS ANY MORE.
* * *
I take a breath to slow my racing heart. “He can’t hold Matt Danbury over our heads, after tonight. He did that, just him. We couldn’t have known we were accessories to murder.”
Max gulps loudly. “There’s the felony murder law....”
“I don’t think that’s how that works.”
“Are you sure?”
I shrug—not really.
“And even if he can’t use Matt, he still has everything else. Didn’t you steal something pretty expensive?”
I feel my face go hot. “A necklace. Almost five thousand pounds.” My knees wobble, and I sit down before I fall down. “Don’t even know why I did that. It was just there, on the—on the... There was a whole tray of them, and the saleslady turned around—I didn’t even think. I just snatched it like a magpie. Kept expecting the police to come knocking, but they never did.”
Max covers his mouth, obviously hiding a snicker.
“What, like your secrets are any better?”
“Uh, nope.” He sobers up quick. “Let’s see: I pissed on my ex-boss’s desk, keyed his car, and sold his dog on Craigslist. I drove through a shop window and left the scene. I fired some guy for—”
“Wait! Stop—you sold your ex-boss’s dog?”
“I saw him smack it one time.”
“And you drove through a window?”
“There was a bee in my car.”
“A bee?” I raise a brow, unconvinced.
“And I was drunk.” He looks away, shamefaced. “I’m just saying, even without Matt, we’ve all done things that are questionable, at best.”
“Won’t argue with that.” I lean over and close Max’s laptop. “We have to find him. That’s all there is to it. Find him and... I don’t know. Stop him, somehow.” I can’t think. I’m tired and overwrought, in dire need of sleep.
Max’s hands come to rest on my shoulders, massaging gently. “We will. Now we know it’s him, we can deal with this.”
I sigh, letting the tension ebb away. “He swore blind he didn’t kill Dev. That he sneaked in before we did. Planted the flash drive to scare us.”
“Do you believe him?”
I exhale harshly. “I don’t want to. He said... He said it was my fault he did this.”
“Your fault? How?”
“He tried to use Dev’s death to get...to—I don’t know.” All the tightness Max rubbed out of my shoulders comes rushing back. “I couldn’t even remember what he was talking about, at first. It was right after we got the news—Wes said he almost kissed me, once. I guess I laughed, and he took that as him handing me his heart, and me ripping it to shreds.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” Shouldn’t I have seen the signs, somewhere down the line? I let him into my life, trusted him—
“He’s scum, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no excuse. No shifting the blame.” Max’s hands tighten on my shoulders. “Kyle’s blood’s still on his hands. All of our blood. There isn’t one of us he hasn’t hurt, physically or otherwise.”
I reach up and touch the barely-knit gash on my cheek, a reminder of my night on the runway. Wes did that, too. And he didn’t stop once he had. Whatever his idea of love is, I don’t want to find out.
“We should get some rest.”
I nod. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow promises more of the same.
Chapter 46
Max
* * *
I come to my senses around noon. I feel pretty good: my vision’s clear, my head’s stopped pounding, and Kate’s still here, keeping me warm. She sets her book aside when I start to stir.
“Sleep well?”
“Like the dead.” Didn’t think I would, after yesterday, but I was out the instant my head hit the pillow.
“Carson’s coming by.” Kate slides under the covers. “Not till late, though—maybe six or seven. He’s stuck at work.”
Good. I’m not in the mood for Carson this early in the day. “How about you?—how’d you sleep?”
“Better than I thought I would.” She stretches languidly, one leg sneaking between mine. “I’ve already had breakfast, gone for a run, and picked up a new phone.”
“New phone?”
“Yeah. Wes changed my background, too. Figured I’d start over: new number, new passcode. That ought to keep him out.”
I frown. “What’d he change it to? Same as mine?”
“No. A picture of a beach: You’ll wish you’d chosen this.” Her eyes go dark and distant. “He wanted me to run off to some island with him. Raise chickens. Maybe goats.”
The image of Kate in an old-fashioned frock and bonnet, chasing chickens around a fenced-in yard strikes me funny, and I crack up laughing. “Chickens! You!”
“What?—I couldn’t raise chickens?”
“You c
ouldn’t raise watercress.” I steal a kiss. “I seem to remember a certain imploding cactus....”
“Mm...wasn’t supposed to water that, was I?”
“Maybe not so much.”
Kate pushes me over on my back. “Let’s forget Wes for a while. Put him out of our minds.” Her hand sneaks under my waistband. I’m already interested, and she’s—there’s something in the way she’s looking at me that’s got me almost nervous. Like it’s our first time all over again.
“I want everything with you.” She holds me in place with nothing but her gaze: it’s hot and intense, and I can’t look away. “Want to know every inch of you, feel you all over—empty my mind of everything but this.”
Might not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but I’m right there with her. I grind into her palm, seeking friction. She has those long, elegant fingers, wicked and dextrous. I relax into it as her hands chase each other from root to tip, lingering at the corona. My eyes roll back into my head as sensation takes over.
“This how you like it?”
I gasp, because, yes—yes, it is, and I’ve never let myself have it, not like this. It’s almost too much, her lips dragging on my stubble, hot breath on my neck, the roughness of her clothed body against my half-naked one...and, of course, those devilish hands. I tangle my hand in her hair and pull her in for a deep kiss, as much to keep the tide of desire from overwhelming me as anything else. “You have no idea,” I mutter when I finally let her go.
“So tell me.” She does a twisty thing with her palm that has me shouting, dignity forgotten. A hot bolt of pleasure shoots through my cock and ripples through my body, leaving me weak.
“I—I... Oh! Keep doing that.”
Kate slows down, trailing her fingertips along my length till I shiver. I lean into it as her kisses wander down my neck and along my collarbone. Soft lips, hot tongue... I could do this forever.
I throw my head back as she nips my shoulder. Her hand tightens on my cock; her thumb grazes the head, and my blood thunders in my ears. I feel lightheaded, like I’d pass out if I came right now. I grope for her wrist and end up with my hand on hers, holding it still. I can feel myself throbbing in our joined grip, my whole body tingling.
