Chapter 85
Jansen
Shower sex was quick but fun, loud, and messy. I’m kind of proud that we christened the place. It’s not like I hadn’t imagined Clara every time I was in there, woefully alone, over the last few months.
Fun complete, I drag Walker with me to get our last unregistered car. It’ll be a tight fit in the convertible, but it’s got a big trunk, so really, it could be worse. And all of us are going with for the event, even Walker, though he told me a block ago that bloodshed isn’t his thing.
I’m not sure it’s mine either, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do my part. That punch I threw was strangely cathartic. And Bryce has more than earned an untimely end. I’m just glad that Tao took my call so late; otherwise, I don’t know where we would have gone to kill and burn the creep.
Should I feel conflicted about this? Probably. Do I? Not a bit.
I might say that I chose philosophy because it’s interesting to think about the big stuff, but part of it was also to figure out if there’s something about me that’s a little off.
But at the same time, I don’t want to know.
I never really did. If I had, I would have been a psychology major.
Instead, I got to read The Prince and discuss political morality.
Our plan tonight is definitely for the greater good. We’re keeping who knows how many other girls from being at the receiving end of his ‘charms.’
That makes us the good guys in my book.
Walker lets me mull in silence, muttering about the cold, our ash-scented blazers and dress shoes doing almost nothing against the bitter night, until we get to where I stashed the car.
He hops into the passenger seat as I crank it on, the purr of an old-school engine greeting us.
It’ll be sad to strip this bad boy, but we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do.
“Ready to move a rat across town in our trunk?” I ask.
Walker shakes his head at me. “I don’t know about you, but I signed on to copy the masters. Body disposal isn’t part of my resume.”
“It will be after tonight.”
“Yay.” The sarcasm twangs through the car, and I push the convertible into drive.
We’re not far from Black, but the route goes past the skeleton of our home, and the anger I found when Bryce was fighting Trips and RJ, Clara half-conscious in Walker’s arms, slams into me with all the weight of the ambulance Fluffington was yowling and coughing in. “That man needs to die.”
Walker takes in my sudden seriousness. “Yeah. He does. We all know the cops won’t do anything.”
“We handed them Trevor on a silver platter, and he’s still loose.”
“Reed stopped by. He said they’ve got a case on him.”
“Do we believe him?”
Walker shrugs. “I think he’s a good cop trying his best in a broken system.”
“This all started because he was trying to arrest Trips. He’s still free. Then he tried for Bryce. He’s out. Forgive me if I don’t believe he can do his job at all.”
Walker laughs, then curses as we spin out on the turn.
“What the fuck?”
“Black ice and no anti-lock brakes. This is just the way the drive is going to be,” I say, controlling my fishtail and getting us straightened out.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle like we’re going a hundred on a back road.
“It’s just really fucking cold, and it snowed earlier. It’s going to be slick.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
A flash of motion catches my eye as we approach the house, then, there’s Clara, sprinting across the street.
“Jansen!” Walker yells as I yank the wheel to the side. The headlights flash through the night, a startled, bloody face caught in the light a moment before the car spins into Bryce.
The thud shakes the car, the airbag triggering before I can see which way I’m spinning, leaving me praying that Clara’s out of the way.
Walker’s curses seem far away as we continue our circle, a second thunk leaving my heart stalled out in my chest, already reaching for my seatbelt, ready to jump out and get to her, terrified that I’ve just killed the love of my life.
There’s another bump as the car bangs against something, more slide, then one last crunch when the car comes to a complete stop.
I’m out before I can register that I’ve banged my head against the door at least twice, not worried about me, but about the girl I’d give my life for. I slip on the black ice, face-planting, so I crawl instead, needing to get to her, to make sure she’s okay.
Scrambling on all fours around the side of the car, I find Clara down on the ice, and I dive toward her, calling her name.
She looks toward me, eyes wide. I pull her into my lap, patting her down, making sure all her limbs are where they should be.
“Are you hurt? Oh my God, Clara, tell me you’re okay. ”
“Jansen, you’re bleeding,” she says.
“So are you,” I yelp, red oozing out from her sweatpants just under her knee.
I grab onto the fabric, trying to press it against the gash, not wanting any more of her blood out of her.
It needs to stay inside her. That’s the only thing that’s important.
Icy fingers brush against my forehead, and I spare a glance at her, the white of her face scaring me more than the blood.
“Clara,” I say, barely registering when an unknown voice kneels beside me and says they’ve called an ambulance.
“She’s going into shock,” I say to the stranger. He must be a neighbor who heard the crash.
“Buddy, I hate to say it, but that’s not the worst injury out here.”
There’s a commotion, and I turn toward it, Trips and RJ dashing across the road. Trips scoops Clara from my arms despite the fact he’s wearing nothing but a towel, soap suds still in his hair. I fall back on the ice, the cold not existing while Clara looks like she’s barely with us.
“Bryce,” she whispers, looking past the car.
I follow her gaze, RJ approaching what looks more like roadkill than a man, the pool of blood around him growing every second. Too much blood to survive.
Dead. I killed him.
My stomach turns, and I vomit out the terror, each heave of my guts bringing tears to my eyes.
“Walker?” I croak, suddenly worried that he isn’t here with us.
Did I kill him too? “Walker!” I shout, RJ picking up on my panic, rushing to the car, the airbags still mostly inflated.
He dashes around the far side, and as he finishes his circle, he slips on the ice, grasping the trunk to keep upright, muttering something about that side being crushed.
“Oh God,” Clara whispers, staring at the car with complete horror.
Sirens sound in the distance, and I can’t help but sob as I gag again. I can’t feel my hands, and I don’t know if it’s the ice or my body and brain shutting down, trying to keep me safe from whatever the hell is happening.
RJ batters at the airbag, then reaches into the car. It takes a forever minute, my stomach emptying again, the sirens growing closer and closer, before he drags a blessedly conscious Walker into my line of sight.
Walker stops RJ from pulling him onto the ice, barking out an order that we all somehow listen to. “Get over here. Now.”
I crawl, Trips carries Clara, and we surround him, Clara shaking, whether from the cold or shock, who knows.
Walker seems to be the most together of us as he meets all our shocked faces. “None of us could sleep. Jansen and I went for a drive. Bryce broke in, there was a fight, and then he chased Clara into the street. We swerved, missing her and hitting him. Do you understand?”
I nod, even though his crushed leg has me turning to gag once more, shivers wracking through me. The neighbor comes up to us, phone to his ear, one hand tucked into his armpit. “They’re almost here,” he says, looking as green as I feel.
And as the flashing red and blue lights reach us, the sirens too loud to say anything else, I curl up on the ice, out of steam, overwhelmed, but damn glad we’re all alive.