“How do you know that?”
I glared at Joel. “Because I drove here every single day for a fucking week to try and get enough money to pay back your debt.”
He looked away. “Right. Any chance you have that money on hand?”
“Nope. It’s sitting in a box at the fucking bank.”
“Just fucking great,” he muttered.
Even after everything I had gone through for him—after all he knew, after what happened with Jude, after what it had done to my body and mind—Joel still acted like it was no big deal.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.
“Mia—”
“Shut up,” I hissed. “Just stop talking. Until we know how this is going to play out, I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And yet you still can’t understand how muchyourfuckup ruined me.” I hung my head to try to keep from throwing up. “I should have let you experience the consequences of your actions when Jude first gave you a warning.” I let out a sharp breath as the wave of nausea passed. “But you’re the only person I have left.” A tear rolled down my cheek. “And I love you.”
Joel was quiet as we rocked and rolled. “I’m sorry,” he said again after a few turns. “I really am. And I love you too.”
The familiar block of buildings that surrounded the Four Horsemen came into view. I wondered if anyone had seen my feet. If they had called 911.
I wondered if Jude was sitting in a meeting right now.
I wondered if he knew just how much I regretted how things had gone down between us.
But I couldn’t think about that now. Between my academic prowess, my eidetic memory, and my penchant for card counting, I could calculate odds in the blink of an eye.
And the odds of Joel and me getting out of this alive were zero.
I took a steadying breath and tried to think through what Jude would coach me to do in this moment. What story could I tell?
The kicked-out taillights were a dead giveaway that we weren’t unconscious, so playing dead was out of the question.
I wasn’t sure if they knew Jude was in the FBI or not. His true identity had been kept out of the news. That would be part of our story. The rest of it would have to be improv.
“When the driver opens the trunk, don’t say a word. Be cooperative, but don’t talk. Don’t deny anything. You’ll just piss them off. And whatever you do, donotsay that Jude is in the FBI. They don’t know that. He’s who you met him as—the bouncer who broke into your apartment and assaulted you.”
For the first time, Joel looked truly terrified. “Okay.”
“Don’t speak unless spoken to. Answer questions with the least amount of information possible. Don’t volunteer extra details. When you got kidnapped, did they hit you?”
“Yeah. My head.”
“Congratulations, you have memory loss. Use that. Act like you’re trying to be helpful but just can’t remember,” I said as the car slowed.
He nodded.
“And Joel?” My voice cracked as the engine cut off. “I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too,” he whispered back.
The driver swore and kicked at the fender as he spotted the kicked-out taillights. I listened to the squeak and slam of a heavy door as it opened and closed. All was silent as he went inside.
The rancid smell of old grease and rotten beer wafted from the dumpsters.We’re behind the Four Horsemen.The trunk popped open and daylight flooded in, blinding me as shadows leered over us.
