Sawyer
I’m half blind with rage, my stomach threatening to surge its contents up my throat, and I can’t relax my hands. That fucker. She has nothing to do with this.
Zelda walks outside, barefoot, wearing only my shirt, and then starts to turn back, her eyes wide, face pale in the moonlight. She clutches her arms tightly to herself.
From behind me, Domino laughs. “His auntie’s house. You know where it is?”
She nods.
“I can’t hear you, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” Zelda’s teeth are chattering. It’s not bitterly cold out, but it’s not a summer night, either, and she’s got practically nothing on.
When she turns around and starts walking down the driveway, the curves of her ass peek out the bottom of the shirt.
Under any other circumstance, it would be driving me wild, but I can’t stifle the sick anger boiling in my chest. I want to turn around and swing at Domino, take Rick’s head off with my bare hands.
But I can’t, because they have a gun, and I’m not faster than a gun.
Unless—
No. There’s no chance of that. I need to wait this out. Figure out what the hell to do. If I can get us both out of this alive, I’m going to take her as far away from here as possible.
We turn onto the sidewalk, Zelda’s hips swaying in front of our little parade, and Rick lets out a whistle that makes my jaw clench so tight I think my teeth might shatter.
Then I register another detail that makes my stomach drop right through the concrete sidewalk.
The light from the street lamps isn’t the only light shining onto the road. My aunt’s house might as well be glowing in the dark. It’s one light—her bedroom window upstairs—but to me it looks like a floodlight.
Why is she up?
It clicks into place then. Domino and Rick must have paid a visit to my aunt’s house.
I don’t know how they found my address. Clearly, they had that asshole from the job the other night report back on whether I showed up on time and paid him a little extra to screw around with my car.
How they got to Linda, I have no idea. But if she’s awake, it’s because they stopped in.
Zelda pads down the sidewalk, picking her foot up once with a sharp breath of air sucked in through her teeth.
I want to reach for her, but I know that the moment I do, this is over.
A lancing pain goes straight through my gut.
I’m supposed to be protecting her, and she’s out here in the dark, cutting her feet on the sidewalk.
This is what I wanted out of. This is what I was getting away from by quitting things with Domino.
It’s my fault that this is happening. It’s my fault that I wasn’t thorough. I should have gone back to the city and ended things that night. Why did I wait? Why did I wait?
It seems like a million years later when we get to my car, parked in my aunt’s driveway for the night. Zelda walks up next to the passenger door and turns around, her lips pressed tightly together, her back straight. Even in the moonlight, I can see the quiver in her chin that she’s trying to hide.
I stand as close to her as I can, then turn and face Domino and Rick, who stand causally in the driveway like they’re doing nothing wrong. Behind them, a black Ford is pulled up to the curb. It doesn’t look like anyone’s in it—Rick probably drove the bastard here from the city.
“I have to get my keys out.” My voice sounds too loud. I’m half hoping that someone will hear me talking and look to see what’s happening. No—there’s nothing there, either. What am I supposed to do if the cops show up? Explain that it’s fine, I’m the former employee of a drug dealer?
“Jesus, Sawyer. Do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?” Domino’s tone is almost jovial, but I see him shift his weight from side to side. He might be the man in charge. That doesn’t mean he wants to be out in the open any longer than he has to be. “Are they in your pocket?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t make any fast moves.”
I reach into my pocket with exaggerated care and pull the keys slowly out, dangling them in the air, the moonlight bouncing off the metal.
“Okay?”
“Go ahead.”
I turn around and click the unlock button, the car responding instantly, and then, carefully, I reach for the passenger door.
“Wait.”
I straighten back up. “What?”
“Do you think I’m not smart enough?”
There’s no smile on Domino’s face, only a thin-lipped grimace. “Toss the keys over here.”
I throw them without hesitating, and he tosses them to Rick, who flips through them, then moves toward us. Zelda has to step onto the lawn to get out of his way, but he makes it a point to leer at her as he goes by.
“Which one’s the glovebox key?”
He splays the keys out in front of me. I stab a finger at the right one, then move to stand next to Zelda. Rick holds out a hand. “No way. Stand right here.”
I stand next to the car, every muscle so tense I’m practically vibrating, while he pulls open the door and leans in. The glove box pops open. He takes the gun out, closes it, and then kicks the door shut with his foot, giving me a nasty grin.
“You’re not going to try anything, are you?”
I bite back what I want to say and turn toward Domino. “You should get going.”
“I don’t know about that, Sawyer.” Domino’s teeth flash white when he smiles. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing to have witnesses. Know what I mean?”
Every inch of my skin goes cold. Is he going to shoot us in my aunt’s driveway? She’s probably watching from the window right now. Oh, my God.
“W—wait—” Zelda’s voice is high, trembling.
“Shut the hell up, sweetheart.” Domino gives Rick a nod, and the big man steps around me, toward Domino, and pulls out the gun from his waistband.
“Nobody fucks with me, Sawyer.” He says it casually, but his eyes glint even in the dim light from the second floor. “Nobody quits on me like that. Nobody—”
I steel myself, waiting for him to finish his bullshit speech before he kills me, my heart in my throat, my stomach going tight. How can I be so scared, so angry—
Domino’s head whips around at the same time Rick’s does, and it’s like slow motion as I follow their gaze.
Somewhere down the road—five blocks, at least—there’s a pulsing blue light, blue and red, blue and red.
The police.
“Fuck,” Domino spits. He looks back into my eyes, mouth twisted. He lets out a frustrated growl, then turns on his heel. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Rick follows him. Of course Rick follows him.
But before he does, he steps over to me, his movements so quick and grace I hardly see it coming.
I have time to think if he’s moving toward Zelda…
and then his fist comes around toward my face, crashing against my cheekbone, exploding with pain. It’s all I can do not to double over.
Then Rick is gone, throwing himself into the driver’s seat of the Ford and Domino leans out the passenger window. “This isn’t over.”
The pain is a spider web over the bones of my face, clinging, smarting. “It’s over, you piece of shit.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Rick says something unintelligible from inside the car, and then they’re speeding away.
I’m left standing with Zelda in the driveway. Behind me, she starts to sob.