Something in his expression makes me back down, though I hate admitting it. A sigh leaves me, and I reach into my leggings pocket to hand over the brand new, fancy box cutter I obtained from the dollar store two days ago. Larkin turns it over in his hand, barely glancing at it, before jamming it in his pocket. “Good choice,” he praises. “Now get in.”
Somehow, I resist giving him anotherfuck you,and I turn toward the passenger side of the large, 4-door Challenger.
Only for Larkin to grab my wrist andtsklightly.
“What?” I snap, whirling on him. “What could youpossiblywant now? I gave you my weapon. I’m getting in the car?—”
“I didn’t say you get to sit with me.” The words ring in the air between us, and their meaning finally hits, making my eyes narrow.
“You’re joking.” My voice is a low murmur, but the disbelief remains clear. “You’reabsolutely—”A yelp interrupts my words as Larkin lunges forward, effortlessly picking me up in his arms, like I weigh as much as a sack of potatoes.
“Not joking,” he sneers, using one foot to shove the mystery man’s body further into the trunk. “Not one bit.”
Before I can do anything except yowl my frustration, I’m dumped into the trunk as well, the hood slamming down quickly so I can’t do anything to get myself out.
“Don’t poke him too much,” Larkin advises, his voice muffled through the trunk. “You don’t want to wake him up before we get there.”
“Fuck you!” I snarl, yet again, and I hear him rap his knuckles against the trunk before he walks away, the driver’s door opening and closing a second later. The ignition comes on, and the jostle of him reversing out of the parking spot rolls poor Roger/Robert’s body toward me.
“Fuck off,” I hiss, even though he can’t hear me, and even after Larkin’s advice, I shove him as far away as I can in the dark. “This is your fault anyway, you loser.”
It’s not though, and I know that too well. It’s no one’s fault but mine, and my growing desire to see what kind of monster I am that got me into this mess at all.
Chapter
Sixteen
Every bump in the back of Larkin’s car is a fight to keep Roger/Robert off me. I gasp every time it happens, as if I’m somehow shocked by it, and by the time he rolls into me for the sixth time, I’ve decided Larkin is doing this on purpose.
“Fuck,” I hiss, kicking him away with my knees drawn up to my body. My exasperation has turned to stress, and my heart races in my ears as I try to keep myself braced in the trunk.
This isn’t my idea of a good fucking time.
At long last, the car comes to a slow, dragging stop. When I feel it being put in park, I let out a grateful breath, even as Roger/Robert starts to stir, causing me to tense and scoot away from him.
“Who…?”
“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to?—”
The trunk lifts, making a soft, motorized sound along its hinges, and I’m up on my knees quickly enough that I nearly bash my head on it. My hands grope for the lip of the trunk, though I miss, causing my body to jolt downward toward the asphalt.
“Hey, hey, hey—” Larkin catches me before I can actually hit the gravel, and before I’m far at all in my fall. He lifts me up suddenly, and I get a glimpse of his face, expecting to see cruel amusement.
But instead I find…concern?
No, that can’t be right.
I’m set on my feet too quickly for me to really tell what it is I’m seeing, and I stagger as the blood rushes back to my lower legs from the time I’ve spent curled up in the trunk.
Wait…
I blink a few times, staring down at the ground, before it hits me what’s wrong.
Gravel?
This isn’t the asphalt of Larkin’s parking garage by a long shot. My chin jerks up, and I’m greeted by the semi-cloudy night sky, where the moon drifts in and out of the foggy wisps.
“Where are we?” I murmur, still clutching onto Larkin. He doesn’t answer, prompting me to glance up at him, and I’m surprised to see that he looks almost calculating. There’s no sense of the taunting or teasing I’m used to, and the scorn I’ve seen before is gone as well.
