Every part of me keeps gravitating toward her. My gaze is on her more than the road, with my head tilting toward her in case she whispers a secret in her sleep. My dick has even joined the fun. If I stare too long at her bare legs, the unruly thing tries to rip right out of my jeans. If my cock gets any harder, I’ll be able to drive with it. The damn thing usually hangs straight, but I’ll bet my last breath even this part of me is leaning to the right to get closer to her.
Yeah, being locked away with this woman for an indeterminate amount of time is going to be the death of me.
We’re almost at the safe house when Kerri jolts awake. “Are we there yet?”
Can’t help but smirk at her question. “Do you see me driving?”
“Good point,” she says with a sleepy stretch. Then she cringes and sits up to peer out the window. Not that she can see much through the blackness. We’re way up now, with the half-moon to light the way. Nothing but dark, dirt roads and trees. “What time is it?”
“Quarter to three.” I nod at the clock on the radio. “We’re about ten minutes out.”
Kerri’s hand slides toward me, but she pulls it back as if she hadn’t realized what she’d done. “This truly is the middle of nowhere.”
“Don’t worry, Duchess, I’m meaner than the bogeyman.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Fucking liar. “How’s your head?” The question escapes my mouth before I realize I’m asking.
“Hurts a little, but I’ll survive to fight another day.” Again, she’s touching me. This time, she doesn’t snatch her hand back. Her clammy palm on my forearm counters her calm demeanor, confirming my suspicion she’s shaken up good. The salt of her sweat is a welcome sting on the fresh cuts lining my right arm. “I’m probably going to say this about a thousand more times, but thank you.”
It annoys me how much I like her delicate touch. “It’s not a big deal, Duchess.”
“Yes, it is, to me.”
The moment Jester and Faith’s relationship became official again, Kerri became family—whether I liked it or not.
Not that I would have left her stranded. I’m not a total monster…to her. With her, I’m only a partial monster.
And never when it truly matters.
“So, you going to tell me what the fuck happened tonight?”
Kerri withdraws her hand and shifts in the seat. “I suppose I should, right? I mean, it’s important.”
She then fills me in on the details of her night, starting with the party, thrown by some woman named Joanne, right up to when that asshole chased her down Route 43. Apparently, it’s a desolate road close to where she lives. The guy drove up behind her in a black SUV. She tried to speed away. He rammed into her. She got real fucking lucky by hitting him back at precisely the perfect moment when they cleared the guardrail. He skidded off the road, causing the SUV to barrel-roll down a hill, where it slammed into a tree. Because she started stashing a bat in her car ever since hanging out in Mayhem (good girl), she was smart enough to get out, weapon in hand, to make sure the motherfucker was dead. She ditched her damaged BMW about a mile from the Nights Inn and walked, in those damn heels and without a jacket, to the motel where she called me.
Taking the next right, I drive on what’s more of a glorified path rather than an actual road. The night closes in on us as we snake through the forest, traveling even higher up the mountain. The darkness grows claustrophobic. It becomes so heavy, so thick, it’s almost a tangible substance around us.
Almost every Unholy does a stint at a safe house. No one comes to the Death Star voluntarily—except for me. Bet my duchess won’t appreciate the rustic setting. Probably shits on a golden fucking throne and wipes her ass with fancy two-ply toilet paper. Not that she comes off as haughty. But she’s fromBrighton. Her zip code alone means she lives in luxury. It’s going to be hilarious to watch her experience life in the wild with nothing but the basics.
Am I being cruel given her situation? Yes. Do I care? No. Everyone has their sob stories. I had to figure out life on my own and do it while raising my kid brother, with the albatross of a crackhead mother fighting me every step of the way. At least Kerri has me at her side to walk her through Rural Living 101.
The truck bumps along the path until nothing but dense woods surround us. Beside me, Kerri tenses. I want to tell her to relax, that I could get us to our destination blindfolded, but there’s no need. The Death Star finally comes into view.
Despite its epic name, it’s anticlimactic, given how small the one-bedroom log cabin is.
“Feel better now?”
“Yes.” There’s a note of relief in her voice. “It’s very rustic.” Her nervous glance moves over me. And then she says with contrived flippancy, “Please tell me there’s running water.”
I match her lighthearted question with sarcasm. “No, we’ll bathe in the nearby creek.” Her expression of horror has me lifting a single brow at her. “Christ, Kerri, this may not be the Four Seasons, but it’s also not a shithole. There’s running fucking water, and we keep the cabin stocked. No women’s clothes, obviously, but at least you’ll have a hot shower, something clean to wear, and your own fucking toothbrush.”
She releases a wistful sigh. “Right now, that sounds like heaven.”
Doesn’t it, though?
Granted, until I walked into that motel room, my idea of heaven was showering off Casper’s nasty-ass apartment. Now? It’s looking more like Kerri and me alone, here at the Death Star.
