Page 33

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AUbrY

Eggplant…

I yank the cork out of a bottle with my teeth and spit it out. Astin dives for the cork as I fill my glass with—

Tristan Harty Tequila.

Whatever.

I don’t bother with ice, or even cleaning the glass, and press it to my lips.

“Fucking eggplant.” Groaning, I toss half of the pour down my gullet and shiver. It tastes like a man left to die in the desert.

I fill my glass again.

A fat ass seagull lands on one of the dock piers. Its head snaps around while trying to focus on Astin who’s scratching at the wood under us. I haven’t moved in the past two days, just sat here in paradise watching the sun skip across the sky. And moped.

Oh, and drank.

I kick my foot back, bottles clinking like bells.

It could have been anything. Peanuts. That’s a popular one. Or shellfish.

Celery!

But no. “I had to fall for the girl that’s allergic to eggplant.”

I couldn’t face her. Tell her that I nearly killed her.

Watching her gasp for air and writhe in pain drove me into a homicidal panic.

I know the signs well. A decade or so of honing that to an edge makes it easy to spot—not as easy to control.

In the hospital, watching her lie there with gray skin and an oxygen mask strapped to her face, I vowed to put whoever poisoned her in the ground.

But it was me.

I look down at the deck chair I’ve slept in the last two nights. Sand’s blown in to bury it a good six inches. Give it another week, and I may make good on my threat.

“I couldn’t stay.”

Astin pauses in his vain attempt to attack the seagull.

“You know how I get around her.” Like a stallion that breaks down a fence to get to a mare in heat. Seeing her makes me want to rip her clothes off with my teeth. Touching her makes me want to shove her legs aside and fuck her all night. Being inside of her…

There’s nothing better in the world.

I take another drink and frown. Sure as shit ain’t this weird-ass tequila. What does some actor from Minnesota know about agave anyway?

So I ran.

“What could I say?” I argue with my cat like he’s my conscious and not a fifteen pound fuzzball without his braincell. “Hi. I’m an eggplant. Sort of. It’s an old family thing. More a curse, really. It makes me like poison to your body. Your hot, luscious, squeezable body…”

A moan slips out and I drop my hand to my crotch.

The sound of a slipping windbreaker rises from my trunks and I pause before I do something stupid.

It’s not that anyone would care. The beach is just Astin and me.

But if I think about her, those lips parting over my cock, her fingers traipsing down my chest, or her tits smothering my head—I’m gonna fucking lose it.

I can’t go back.

I made sure of it.

She may be my drug of choice, but I needed to get through a detox program stat. Or else, I could kill her.

Squash’s offer rings in the back of my head like a siren on its way to a fire. I could take it. Run off to the east, fall right back in to what I ran from in the first place. She couldn’t love that. Couldn’t want a man who makes his living threatening others and destroying lives.

One thing’s true though, I can’t keep wallowing here. Eventually, someone’s going to come looking. If the Nightshades win, I’ll have to deal with the peppers. And if the Brassicas inevitably crush those little upstarts, they’ll want to tie up any loose ends.

I’m the loosest end that’s left.

Maybe I should go back to Cebu. It’s been decades. The farm’s probably all cleaned up by now. New owners might need a hand to run things. Or, most likely, corral tourists for one of their destination packages. Who’d ever think that the large man carrying Prada bags used to be in the mob?

Or that he can turn into an eggplant.

“A fucking eggplant,” I moan again, falling back into oblivion.

Four paws and a creature weighing a hundred pounds lands on my chest. I wheeze and stare up at my cat who’s glaring at me with scary focus. “What do you want?”

Astin meows.

“I couldn’t tell her anything. If she knew, then…the Shades would find out. They can’t let our little secret out into the world.”

Orange eyes call me on my bullshit.

“I am not a coward. Sure, maybe she wouldn’t have believed me. Laughed at me. Told me to get the fuck away from her. So…either way it ends with us in Mexico, and her safe back in—”

A sandpaper tongue grates my forehead. I sigh, realizing that Astin wasn’t questioning my decision. He just wanted to drink the sweat off my forehead.

“Missing the braincell today, huh?” I ask, swooping my fingers through his fur. It’s been falling out in clumps ever since we left Loomis. He doesn’t like being stuck in a tight container. Not that I can blame him after the ship’s containers.

After grooming me clean, Astin gives a little turn on my chest, making sure to dig in with his claws. Then he plops down for a nap, managing to gain another thirty pounds in the process. I can hear my ribs cracking, but I don’t dare move.

“You miss her, don’t you?” I ask my snoring cat. “The way she’d smile at you to coax you over. Slip you a bit of dinner when I pretended to not look…”

My breath deepens as the Cancun beach vanishes before my eyes. “How she’d always wear two sweaters, but take one off the second we got anywhere. That little divot in her cheek that was neither dimple nor scar. How she’d say the most filthy things while blushing like a virgin.”

I flip over my phone. The screen’s on her messages.

It’s always on her messages now.

She berates me, asks why, tells me to fuck off, begs for me back.

I hurt her, I know that. But if I’d stayed I could have done so much worse than break her heart.

I might have shattered it for good.

“Sadie…”

She’s typing to me. Right now.

I have to let this go. Just let it be another thing in my past. One day I’ll lose the ache. In my heart.

I’ll always keep the one in my balls for her.

My finger scrolls up. I have to block her number. I have to delete all of this. We can’t stay. We both need to move on.

Just as I pull down the menu, the messages jump up. A lot.

Did she write me an essay?

Curiosity punctures through my conviction and I look.

It’s an image of a woman blindfolded, hands tied with duct tape, on her knees in the back of a filthy van. Why would she send me…?

I leap up, sending Astin flying to the sand. Opening the image, I don’t even have to zoom to see the familiar red panties, the divot in her cheek, and the frown as if she’s already had her heart ripped out of her chest.

“Sadie!” I scream, my body shaking in rage. Someone’s kidnapped her, tied her up, and put her in a van. A someone I know all too well.

They send one last message, “Crudité.” Then her side goes dark.