"We need to talk."
"Later. Dance now." She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the center of the floor. I resist, but she's insistent, and making a scene will draw more attention than just going along with it.
The music is loud, bass thumping through the floor. Bodies press close on all sides, and Sloane moves in front of me, hips swaying, completely uninhibited. She's having fun, actual, genuine fun, probably for the first time since I found her in the town square.
I lean down, putting my mouth near her ear so she can hear me over the music. "You need to ease up on the stories. You're giving people too many details."
She pulls back, looking up at me with that bright, slightly unfocused gaze. "What are you going to do, kill me?"
The words are light, teasing, said with a laugh. But they land hard anyway and I don't care for it. But she doesn't wait for a response, just spins away, dancing with Ellie again, leaving me standing there in the middle of the floor.
I stay on the floor and let her pull me back in, let her twirl under my arm when the song changes to something slower. She's not a good dancer—too loose, too uncoordinated from the alcohol—but she's enthusiastic. And when she stumbles, I catch her, hands on her waist, steadying her.
"Thanks," she says, looking up at me. We're close now, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes and smell whatever fruity drink Mira made her on her breath.
"You're drunk."
"I'm having fun." Her hands rest on my shoulders, and we're swaying now more than dancing. "When's the last time you hadfun?" I glance around, but the music is loud enough that no one's paying attention to us.
"No one can hear me…" she slurs, and I scowl at her. My senses are on high alert. I want to go home where there are fewer eyes and less risk.
So when the song ends, I push through the crowd with her arm in my hand. She's laughing at something Mira said, gesturing wildly with her glass, but I've had enough.
"Time to go," I say loud enough for others around us to hear. She's wasted, and watching her body move around in that slinky dress has me all worked up. I'm not superhuman. I don't have the ability to make my cock stay a slug all night.
"Already? We just got here."
"Three hours ago. And you're drunk enough that staying longer is a bad idea."
She pouts but doesn't fight me. "Fine. But you're no fun."
"Add it to the list." I guide her toward the exit, nodding at Ellie as we pass. "Thanks for having us."
"Anytime! Sarah, you come back whenever you want. We need more fun people in this town." Ellie winks at her, already wasted herself.
The cold air hits us as we step outside and Sloane shivers, pulling my flannel back around her shoulders. The parking lot is less crowded now—some people have already left, others are inside for the long haul.
My truck sits in the far corner where I parked it. And there, visible even in the dim light, is a box in the bed.
I unlock the passenger door and help Sloane inside. She slumps against the seat, eyes half-closed, the alcohol and exhaustion catching up with her.
"Did you have fun?" she asks as I start the engine.
I glance at the box in the rearview mirror, then at her. "Yeah. I did."
It's not entirely a lie. For three hours, we pretended to be normal people living normal lives. But make believe doesn’t save you from reality, and whatever is in that box will be my next clue as to what game this guy is playing.
8
SLOANE
The heat is unbearable. My skin is on fire, flushed from three hours of drinking Mira's overly sweet mixed drinks and dancing in a crowded diner. The truck's heater is blasting, adding to the suffocating warmth, and I can't take it anymore.
I shrug off Dane's flannel and crank down the window. Cold October air rushes in, shocking and perfect against my overheated skin. The temperature outside has dropped—feels close to freezing, the kind of cold that promises snow before morning. I lean toward the open window, letting the wind whip my hair around my face.
"Close the window," Dane grumbles in an angry tone. He's been that way since we left the diner, his grumpy old man act on point tonight.
"I'm hot." I lean farther out, letting the cold air wash over me. The stars are brilliant tonight, crystal clear against a gunmetal sky. The rush of wind and the hum of tires on pavement fill my ears.
