Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Every bump in the back of Larkin’s car is a fight to keep Roger/Robert off me. I gasp every time it happens, as if I’m somehow shocked by it, and by the time he rolls into me for the sixth time, I’ve decided Larkin is doing this on purpose.
“Fuck,” I hiss, kicking him away with my knees drawn up to my body. My exasperation has turned to stress, and my heart races in my ears as I try to keep myself braced in the trunk.
This isn’t my idea of a good fucking time.
At long last, the car comes to a slow, dragging stop. When I feel it being put in park, I let out a grateful breath, even as Roger/Robert starts to stir, causing me to tense and scoot away from him.
“Who…?”
“Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to—”
The trunk lifts, making a soft, motorized sound along its hinges, and I’m up on my knees quickly enough that I nearly bash my head on it. My hands grope for the lip of the trunk, though I miss, causing my body to jolt downward toward the asphalt.
“Hey, hey, hey—” Larkin catches me before I can actually hit the gravel, and before I’m far at all in my fall. He lifts me up suddenly, and I get a glimpse of his face, expecting to see cruel amusement.
But instead I find…concern?
No, that can’t be right.
I’m set on my feet too quickly for me to really tell what it is I’m seeing, and I stagger as the blood rushes back to my lower legs from the time I’ve spent curled up in the trunk.
Wait…
I blink a few times, staring down at the ground, before it hits me what’s wrong.
Gravel?
This isn’t the asphalt of Larkin’s parking garage by a long shot. My chin jerks up, and I’m greeted by the semi-cloudy night sky, where the moon drifts in and out of the foggy wisps.
“Where are we?” I murmur, still clutching onto Larkin. He doesn’t answer, prompting me to glance up at him, and I’m surprised to see that he looks almost calculating. There’s no sense of the taunting or teasing I’m used to, and the scorn I’ve seen before is gone as well.
“You’ve really never done this before, have you?” he murmurs almost sweetly, one hand coming up to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I thought you were bullshitting me, and that I somehow missed some kill or seven you’ve made in the past few years. But this really is new to you.”
I don’t want to answer, because somehow it feels like admitting to a failure of mine to tell Larkin that I’ve never exactly killed anyone on purpose, other than Alan, and even that was partial self-defense.
“So what?” I make myself snap, though my skin burns hot under his direct gaze, even in the dim illumination from the moon above. “Are you my counselor? Are you going to tell me to go home?”
I hate how he can be so quiet and patient, rather than giving me the quick answers I’m used to from Esme. He’s thoughtful, like Cass, and it unnerves me how long he thinks things through sometimes.
But even though he and Cass have some similarities, Larkin is different in all the worst ways.
I’ve never thought my childhood best friend was a monster.
Hell, even his friends aren’t too bad in my eyes.
They have reasons for doing what they do, and for the most part, they’re productive men who lead productive lives outside of their killing.
Even Jed, though I’ve heard stories about his body shed.
Larkin, though?
He’s a monster.
Well, if I’m a monster, he’s the devil. He’s never once given me the impression that he feels bad, or that he feels anything—
“No.” I blink as his answer cuts through my thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
“No?” I repeat. I’ve already forgotten what I asked, though I’m trying not to let on to that fact.
As per usual, I’m transparent as hell when it comes to him.
“No,” Larkin repeats with a small smirk.
“I won’t tell you to go home. Besides, you wouldn’t know how to get home from here, anyway.
” He glances over my shoulder into the trunk as the man slowly sits up.
But unlike what he did with me, he lets him fall all over the place, until the man hits the gravel on his face, going still with a groan.
“Where are we?” I ask, pulling my gaze from the apparently passed-out man to the surrounding area. I can see a light farther up the driveway, I think, and when I squint, I think I see a house.
“Home.”
His answer makes me glance up at him. “What? But you live in an apartment in the city.”
Larkin just shakes his head and reaches up to stroke my jaw, his hand cupping my face as he studies me.
“You wanted to play,” he says, without answering my question.
His skin is warm against mine, even in the chilly night.
“So I’m going to give you a game worth playing. What did you say his name was?”
“No idea,” I breathe with a sigh, barely looking down at the pathetically disgusting man curled up at the trunk of the car, his head dangerously close to the muffler. “Uh, Roger? Robert? Richard?”
“My name’s Dale,” the man groans, his words slurred from the gravel his face is planted against.
“Dale?” I repeat, blinking. “Really?” God, I can just feel Larkin’s judgment from the way he’s staring at me. “Like…seriously?”
The man mumbles an affirmative, making me feel stupid as hell. Dale. How did I not know that?
Larkin sighs and wraps an arm around my shoulders to tug me back against him, then leans down. “Are you going to be good for me while I set up your game?” he asks, in the same voice I ask Yoichi if he wants a nice, frozen rat.
“Is the game worth my time?” I find myself asking, and I look up over my shoulder to meet his eyes in the dark.
I don’t expect his kiss. Larkin wraps me in his arms, his warm jacket somehow curled around my frame as he pulls me tighter against him, his mouth devouring mine. With a whimper, I go up on my toes, knowing that I should slap him or punch him or, even better, stab him for kidnapping me again.
Instead, I lose myself in the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue, and the sharpness of his teeth as they worry at my bottom lip. “The game will be very worth your time,” he assures me, not pulling away, whispering the words against my lips. “So long as you’re committed to winning it.”
He doesn’t let me remark on that. Larkin pulls away with one last brush of his thumb against my lower lip, and strides forward to pick up Dale, tossing him over his shoulder like a bag of trash he’s about to deposit in the dumpster.
Like an obedient dog, I follow him up the driveway, too stunned to do anything else. In the near-dark, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel under our feet, and the few noises Dale makes when Larkin has to resettle him over his shoulder, though he’s not exactly gentle about it.
The motion light on the house makes me jump when it comes on, flooding the patio with light and prompting Larkin to pause. When he turns to look at me, the moonlight makes his eyes shine silver. “Stay here,” he says suddenly, thoughtfully. “I’ll come get you.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he walks into the house, the door closing hard behind him.
Leaving me completely alone.
Wind rustles in the nearby trees, and belatedly I dig my phone out of my pocket, wishing I still had my box cutter. While being alone in the dark doesn’t scare me, something about being here does, though I’m not sure if it’s because of Larkin or something else.
It takes a few tries for me to get the phone’s flashlight to come on, and when it does, the light isn’t really worth the trouble.
I walk to the edge of the grass illuminated by the patio light, staring with my light out into the trees beyond.
From what I can see, there’s nothing else here.
No other houses, and nothing except what looks like a sea of trees.
Curiously, I pull up my location on my phone, though the lack of service means that I just get a continuous loading screen as it tries and tries to triangulate where I might be.
The longer I stare at it and the one bar of service that blinks in and out of existence, the more nausea rises like claws in my throat.
I take a breath and let it out, closing my eyes as the wind ruffles my hair.
Absently, I reach up to tangle my fingers in the strands, shoving it back from my face as the breeze threatens to make a mess of it.
Though I’m sure I don’t look great after nearly an hour in the trunk of Larkin’s fucking car.
I could leave.
The thought hits me, and my hand freezes with my fingers scraping against my scalp on another pass through my shoulder-length hair.
I could run off into the trees, or go down the driveway.
In the complete, utter darkness, I don’t see how Larkin would have an easy time finding me.
We’d be on even ground, at the very least, and there have to be a few rocks I could use as a weapon, if it came down to it.
But for some reason, I can’t take that final step into the darkness at the edge of the yard. My phone’s light barely makes a dent in it, and less than three feet in front of me, the white light is swallowed up by the darkness like it’s a solid, living thing.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I turn to look over my shoulder, not too surprised to see Larkin on the patio, though I hadn’t heard him come outside.
Bathed in white light, I can see every line of his tall form, from his crossed arms to his similarly crossed ankles as he leans against one of the decorative columns.
He’s watching me, unspeaking, and when I meet his gaze, he does that little head tilt that signals he’s curious.
This time, I’m silent because I don’t know what to say to him.
A few snarky quips come to mind, but they never make it to my tongue as we stare at each other in the darkness, with only the sound of the wind through the branches for company.
My hands drop to my sides, fingers clenching and unclenching, while I try to figure out what to say.