I should tell him that.
See how he likes boundaries.
“Fuck you,” is what comes out of my mouth instead.
“Now, that sounds like what I was thinking, but youjust saidthat would be the wrong idea.”
Bubbling up with the kind of unhinged, uncontrollable frustration I never normally experience, I stomp over to his side of the car and yank open the door, pointing inside.
“In. Now. And no more fucking talking. No more of whatever this look you’re giving me is either.”
He doesn’t stop eye-fucking me, but I didn’t really think he would.
Instead, he curls his lip slightly, once again looking like the blood-soaked angelic herald of murder that I met this morning. He moves slowly and carefully, climbing into the car with the same preternatural grace he does everything else with, and I’m left alone with the sound of my heavy breathing and the fucking foxes as soon as I slam the door shut.
The drive toTrigger’s place is silent. No radio, no talking, just the wind rushing past and the unbearably loud sound of my own breathing.
Even that feels like an unhinged loss of control for me. But Fallow’s presence is somehow larger than his body. Like he’s filling up all the space in the car just by existing, and I’m left crushed into a corner, panting like a dog to get enough oxygen to survive.
I hate it. I hate it more because I’m very aware that he knows all about how I react to him and seems to find it wildly entertaining to toy with me.
I should be far away from him right now, trying to slap some sense back into myself. Or maybe I should be locking both of us in my bedroom so I can fuck the sass out of him, consequences be damned. I already risked a lot by letting him dry hump me with the door unlocked, and that turned out fine.
Mostly.
But instead, I’m driving out to referee two idiots who are supposed to work for me, but can’t handle a simple body disposal without my personal involvement.
Maybe Savage was right, and this job really is a waste of everybody’s time. A growl escapes me unintentionally, my fingers tight enough on the steering wheel that something might snap, and I can feel Fallow’s gaze on me from the passenger seat the entire time.
“Something wrong?” he asks, the same teasing lilt to his voice as usual.
I don’t answer. I can’t answer. If I answer, he’ll somehow seize on that and manage to turn the conversation into me pulling over to the side of the road so he can blow me in the car or something, and then we’ll both end up getting arrested for the least illegal thing either of us has ever done.
Thankfully, we’re finally here.
The entrance to Trigger’s place is so overgrown, you can only see it if you know what you’re looking for. That’s by design, I’m sure. Turning in takes me to an unnecessarily long dirt track thatmorphs into a driveway at some point, until I’m pulling up in front of a sprawled out, rambling ranch house in desperate need of a coat of paint.
The wrap-around porch is covered in cages and other equipment. It’s all neatly stacked, but overcrowded, nonetheless. There are alligator skulls with beads hanging in the trees, and it makes the whole place creepier than it needs to be.
“I see cages. Is this another fox vendor?” Fallow asks.
“No,” I say as I switch the engine off. “And don’t mention that shit in front of him. He hates it, and I need to keep my hands on him without pissing him off any more than we already do.”
Fallow stares at me, not making a move to get out of the car.
“Keep your hands on him… where, exactly?”
There’s a tone there. More than teasing, but I can’t quite figure out what it is. His eyes are narrowed, and the car feels like it just got ten degrees hotter.
“My metaphorical hands, pervert.” I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes, which he clearly doesn’t appreciate. I make a mental note to do it more. “He has this big-ass piece of land in the middle of nowhere. All he wants is to do is take care of his ridiculous brood of animals, and he doesn’t give a shit about helping me dispose of bodies sometimes as long as I help him pay the bills.”
Fallow looks out of the window again, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are wide and bright.
“Dispose of them how?”
“I guess you’ll see.” It feels good to have the upper hand for a minute, even if it’s only in this tiny sense. “If he and Lucky haven’t killed each other yet, that is.”
With a suddenly light expression, Fallow practically flings the door open and bounces out like a kid on a field trip.
