I’m grateful to see the ride operators have faces when we arrive at the coaster. Even so, I make choices that differ from those I made in the simulation. Wouldn’t want to give Aven the wrong impression after that little comment he made.
In reality, I chose the coaster demonstration because I figured Desmond would be there since he chose the popcorn-eating contest yesterday. It’s not that I want to see him, but if I want to help them catch him, then I need to pull my weight. That bonus from Jim is the shortcut to riches I’ve been praying for, but I only get the additional money if I help them bag their prize.
And sure enough, as we approach the boarding platform—to get into the front coaster car, not the back—I spy the man of the hour preparing to board the final car. I tug Aven’s sleeve, and he stops, nearly causing me to ram into his back.
“Do you need to piss again?” he asks.
I shake my head. “What? No, look over there.”
I point toward the man and his skinny friend, and Aven turns to look at them. He nods and turns back to me.
“Aye, I see him. Clever lass.” He ruffles my head and fucks up my ponytail. Asshole. “Do you feel up to tugging the line a bit?”
I nod and smooth my hair. Jim and Aven have really latched on to the fishing euphemisms, but I guess it works. Tugging the line means enticing Desmond to act, which is something we haven’t fully tried yet. What we’ve been doing is more like dropping the line in the water without letting him get a nibble.
God, now I’m using fish talk. Gross.
“Yeah, I think it’s time,” I say.
I raise my hand and wiggle my fingers at the men. The skinny one spots me first. He punches his older friend in the arm and turns him toward me. “Nathaniel” waves back, and the pair start heading our way.
“What do I do?” I whisper as I keep smiling at the approaching men. “I didn’t think this far ahead.”
But Aven doesn’t respond.
Not wanting to look behind me and show too much dependance on another man, I take a step forward and nearly fall into the older man’s disgusting arms. He doesn’t even bother to reach out and catch me as I steady myself on the queue railing.
“First day on those beautiful legs?” he asks with a sly smirk. His gaze eats up my body, lingering for entirely too long on my thighs.
I giggle and swat his chest. “Oh, Nicholas. You’re so funny!”
He simultaneously preens under the attention and bristles because I got his name wrong. It was intentional. Men like you more when you make them feel small and inconsequential. Some men pay heavily for it.
“It’s Nathaniel,” he says, “but you can call me Desmond.”
He whispers this last as he takes my hand and brings it to his lips. It was so quiet, I can’t even be sure I heard it. I’m in such a state of shock that I turn to Aven for reassurance.
But he’s no longer there. The sun has set, and my shadow is nowhere to be seen.
“Would you like to join me in the last car?” Nathaniel—fuckingDesmond—asks. “I hear it’s the best seat.”
I would rather lie at the bottom of the first hill with my legs spread wide as the coaster train barrels directly into my asshole. But, as so many women have before me and so many women will after me, I smile and nod to appease the asshole in my life. Such is our lot.
Cold sweat slicks my palms as I allow him to lead me to the end of the train. Flashes of memories break through, of that last ride with my mother and the way it felt to have her protective fingers wrapped around mine. It wasn’t like this. There were genuine smiles and laughter, not this plastic grin to smother my fear. When I held my mother’s hand, there wasnever anyfear. Holding this man’s hand brings it out of me in spades, though.
I glance behind me again, searching for Aven. Surely he’s still watching from somewhere. He wouldn’t leave me in this vulture’s scaly hold.
I try not to study Desmond’s face too closely as we wait to board, but I can’t help it. He’s becoming a silver fox, as patches of gray creep into his dark sideburns, but he lacks King’s charm and allure. I’d say it’s just that King has the benefit of that sexy accent, but Aven’s accent doesn’t helphimat all.
Okay, that’s a lie. Aven’s accent is the stuff that orgasms are made of.
Why are you thinking of him right now? He didn’t even stick around to keep you safe.
Desmond’s ice-blue eyes stare down at me. He’d be attractive if he didn’t have that creepy air hanging around him. I’ve read enough dark romances to know he lacks the sliver of soul required to become a leading man. He’d be the villain.
I glance behind me again, but I only see a few more Sinners as they file in for the ride. There’s Grim and Rose, and Ice Pick waddles in right behind them. The familiar faces put me more at ease, but the one face I want to see still isn’t there.
“I think your little friend was jealous. He took off. It’s just us, princess.” Desmond’s words settle around my lungs and squeeze. That isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.
