Chapter 29
Kai
“Go slow,” Haven says. “It’s easy to miss, especially in the dark.”
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I shove them under my thighs, but it doesn’t help. The tremor just moves somewhere else—my knee, my jaw, that spot behind my sternum that hasn’t stopped aching since I walked out of Rooke’s office.
Haven’s too busy giving the Uber driver directions to notice, and thank fuck for that.
“There it is,” she says, jamming her shoulders between the front seats to point through the windshield. “Just up ahead on the left. You see it?”
Eric, the Uber driver, shoots me a look in the rearview mirror.
I pretend not to see it.
We’ve been in his car twice tonight already. First from the Airbnb to the party. Then from the party back to the Airbnb. Now this. I’m also pretty sure he was the same guy who fetched me and Haven from Rooke’s house the day after the Rain Dance.
This guy probably knows more about what goes on in Agony Hollow than the Pentagon.
The gravel crunches under the tires as we pull up the long driveway. Rooke’s bachelor pad materializes out of the darkness. During the day, it looks like some asshole architect’s wet dream. At one in the morning, in my current mood, it looks like the opening scene of a slasher flick.
No lights are on inside, but the security spots flare to life as the Uber pulls up.
“Maybe he’s not home,” I say. Hoping.
“Then we’ll—“ Haven drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as she leans into me “—break in.”
Eric gives her a sidelong glance, but says nothing when I make eye contact in the rearview mirror again. We’re oozing so much booze and weed from our pores, he’s probably more worried about us puking in his car than committing a felony.
“Look, babe, let’s just go back home and?—“
“No!” She turns to look at me, eyes bright with that manic weed energy. “I want my car.”
It’s not about the car, but I’m too fucked-up to figure out what itisabout, and she’s too wired to slow down long enough to explain. All I know is she’s Joan of Arc right now, and this is her crusade.
The Uber is still busy slowing down when Haven kicks open the door and jumps out.
“Tell him to wait,” she calls to me. “This won’t take long.”
“Thiswilltake long,” I tell the Uber driver, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man.”
Nothing with Rooke is ever quick or easy.
Eric nods his head and waits for me to get out before doing a seven-point turn and heading back to the main road.
Haven detours on her way to Rooke’s porch to make emphatic stabbing motions at his Tesla and Land Rover.
“Okay, he’s here,” I mutter.
I follow her up the porch steps, my gut twisting in on itself the closer we get to Rooke’s front door. Part dread, part anticipation, part uneasy flutter I’ve been trying to ignore since his mouth was on my?—
Nah, man. Nota fuckdo I need this right now.
Haven pounds on the door with the side of her fist. “Hey! Open up!”
Nothing.
