Before I can get the door closed, he guns the engine, shooting us forward.
This was a huge mistake. I was stupid enough to think my step-brother might have found one of the decent bones he used to have in his body. But the energy he’s putting off tonight is dark and dangerous.
“Wait! I have to go back to work?—”
“Bitch,” he growls. “I’m not sitting out back where some kitchen goon is going to see us idling at the curb. This conversations is between you and me.”
“What’s a kitchen goon?” I yell over the music, my frustration with Jeremy making my tone bitter.
Momentarily I get a vision of a suit-wearing mafia hit man when I think of the word goon. Yep. I need one of them right now.
A knee-cap breaker. A scary beast. A man who will rake the world over hot coals to make it pay for pissing him off.
Right. Dream on. I gave up on heroes a long time ago when my mom married Jeremey’s father and the monsters rattled my calm, comfortable world.
With a sneer, he spits in a cup, a trail of something brown dripping down his lip. “You know, one of those dorks that takes out the trash, or some shit.”
What a jerk. I still wonder how any human could turn out so badly. Too bad he might be the last person I see alive.
My hand is cramping on the handle above the door. He’s going so fast, I picture us slamming into a building and the medical examiner having to clean up a big mess.
“Where are you taking me, I only have a 10 minute break?”
He doesn’t answer, just cuts the corner, knocking over a trashcan, shooting the now dented metal object against a brick building.
“Are you high?”
He laughs, a dark, scary sneer on his face, as he pumps his hand in the air to the beat of the music.
I try to suffocate the fear that’s flaming in my chest, but my voice shakes anyway. “Jeremy, your text message said you needed to talk about the deed on my grandmother’s house and her paintings.”
He slows the car to a creep in an alley one block over from the restaurant. Thank god. I could jump from the car. Run back inside. Surely Jeremy wouldn’t come in after me.
Or would he? Jesus. He looks crazy tonight.
My lip tastes coppery where I’m biting it so hard there’s a sting. Keep it together, Celeste. Use your head.
There’s one good thing about this scenario. If he’s high, he won’t be steady on his feet…he won’t be able to chase me.
I hope.
God, I should have known better than listen to anything Jeremy said. Why did I get in this car?
And more importantly, how is this my life?
“Yeah,” he laughs loudly. “About that deed.”
My skin crawls all over my body. I don’t like the way he’s glancing at me. Calculating.
“Jeremy, you said you’d give it to me,” I yell over the stupid music, “it was promised to me. I need a place to live…”
He jabs the radio power button and suddenly the car is silent, except for the erratic clunking of the engine and the sound of my labored breathing.
Voice raspy like dirty gravel, he says, “You’re gonna pay me a lot of money for that deed.”
My eyes bulge, my mouth drops open as the fire that was simmering in my belly tries to shoot out of my nostrils. “Are you serious? I gave you money before when you needed it and…and you said you would?—”
“What’s that?” he cuts me off. “Can’t remember saying no such thing.”
