Page 8

8

My shower ends up being at the truck stop I stopped at last night, and thankfully, I can get four iced coffees and two packages of Pop-Tarts which fill the grey plastic bag I’m carrying back to their car.

Part of me expected us to just bulldoze down the road in the RV, but when I mentioned that, Kieran looked at me with shocked disdain and asked if I knew what filling up the tank would cost to do that drive both ways in the behemoth.

I did not.

Instead, I’m back in the car they kidnapped me in. Though I only remember the drive back to my apartment, not the drive to the cabin a month ago. Settling in the back seat with a sigh, I lean my head back against the seat as Kieran glances at me in the rearview mirror. His hair is damp, like mine, but he looks a little more awake than he had when we got here.

“Is that actually full of coffee, or is there water hiding in there somewhere?” he asks, cracking open the cap of his black iced coffee.

“No water. Water is for losers,” I murmur, fishing out one of my iced coffees and peeling off the seal. It’s light beige rather than black, and when I take a drink, I can barely detect even the hint of coffee.

Just how I like it.

Kieran shakes his head, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel as we wait for Val. Somehow I'm not surprised he’s the last one, and it’s another five minutes before he opens the door behind Kieran’s seat, instead of the passenger door.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asks, his own bag in his hands that he drops onto the passenger seat. “The novelty of riding up front with him has worn off. It wore off, like, a year ago, actually.” He grins at Kieran in the mirror, ignoring his frown or the low sound he makes in his throat as he pushes the button to start the ignition.

“What did you get?” I ask, watching as he picks up my bundled hoodie I’ve been using as a pillow. He crooks a finger at me invitingly, and I absolutely can’t help flopping over onto his lap, once more burying my face in my hoodie. But this time, I have Val’s warmth, and the feeling of his fingers combing through my damn hair.

“To eat? I don’t know, just?—”

“He probably cleaned out the hot food at the deli.” Kieran sighs from up front, pulling the car around the parking lot and stopping at the small road leading back to the highway. I can’t quite see what he’s doing, but when I sit up just a little bit, I can see the screen over the console is showing a map of the area with a blue line showing where to go.

I just hope either of them will take the time to tell me exactly what it is we’re doing and where we’re heading.

“Yeah,” Val snorts. “He’s right. You’re welcome to try anything in there if you want. Though I’m sure it’ll stop tasting so good in like, the next forty-five minutes.”

“You’re going to eat a bag’s worth of fried food in the next forty-five minutes before it gets cold and gross?” I confirm, rolling onto my back as my brows climb toward my bangs.

“Nah, but I don’t mind if it’s gross or cold.” He grins down at me, his arm settling over my shoulders in a way that’s comforting, not restrictive.

I could so fall asleep here. Instead, I force myself to sit up, figuring I should at least cram a pack of Pop-Tarts down my throat before passing out for what the GPS is saying will be a three and a half hour drive from where we are.

“Why stay so far away from where we’re going?” I can’t help asking, my mouth full of icing and artificially sweetened jam. “Why not stay closer?”

“Because we like to give the cops less of a reason to look for us however we can,” Kieran tells me. “In case I forget to say it later, you both eat like children. And if you get crumbs in my car, you’ll be grounded like children.”

Val squawks indignantly, glancing up from his phone. “I’m not the one eating Pop-Tarts!” he argues. “What the hell, Kier?”

“You’re an enabler. And you’re sitting in the back seat, so suck it up.” He looks pretty satisfied with himself and settles back against the driver’s seat.

Once I’m done eating too much too fast, I flop back down on Val, pretty sure I’m going to be asleep sometime in the next few minutes. Which is unacceptable, given I want to know what’s going on.

“We’re going to Texas,” Kieran tells me, obviously figuring out that’s what I’m wondering about. Not that I’m exactly subtle. “I’d rather you sleep than me have to give you some long monologue about why we’re going to Texas. Especially since you will not be helping.”

“No murder for Noa? How sad. You sure were keen to get me stabbin’ some guy a month ago.” I’ve mostly gotten over that, except for the times I wake up from a nightmare where I’m the one getting stabbed instead of the man in the woods.

Those are the only times I wish I could be normal again, but that’s also my secret to keep. “But yeah…” I sigh, not wanting to admit I’d like to fall asleep here on Val’s lap with his fingers stroking through my hair and my face buried in my hoodie. “Yeah, I’ll take the short version if you’re offering.”

“You might not like this one so much,” Val admits quietly. “So if you want to skip it and just sleep, I really think that might be the best idea, princess.”

While the idea is certainly enticing, and some part of me wants to just not know, I shake my head with a sigh. “No, I can’t do that,” I murmur. “If I’m going to be here, if I’m going to be with you , then I have to make myself know. I can’t hide from the parts of you I’d rather not see.”

When I glance up, I find Kieran’s gaze in the mirror and I’m surprised to see something like approval in his eyes.

“He saw Harley dump a body a few months ago. That’s the girl with the clown mask from the haunt,” Kieran explains quietly. “He followed her, trying to use it against her. Said she was too pretty for him to go to the cops right away. She tried to give him what he wanted, but it went too far. Unfortunately, he found her again. Then, even though Samuel gave him quite a big sum of money to keep quiet, that seems to not be working for him anymore.”

“So he took the money and still wants to go to the cops?” I snort. “That’s certainly bold. Why not just take your payday and shut the hell up?”

“ Exactly ,” Val agrees with a sigh. “I don’t get it either, pretty girl.”

“We’ve tried everything to avoid this,” Kieran goes on. “Not that I’m going to be particularly upset to end his life. He’s started making demands and threats. Said he’ll only talk to Harley now.” I can almost hear him rolling his eyes, and I’m certainly not imagining the disdain in his voice.

“So you’re going to kill him?”

My words are met with silence, though Val keeps combing his fingers through my hair and neither of them seems tense or upset by my question.

Finally, it’s Kieran who answers, and he lets out a long, low breath as he does. “Yeah, Noa,” he tells me evenly. “We’re going to Texas so we can kill him before he can hurt any of us or start something we can’t keep under control.”

I’m not sure when I fall asleep, though when I’m being very gently shaken awake, I realize I’ve definitely been out for a while. My second bottle of half-finished iced coffee is still clasped in my hand and I’m hugging it to my chest, though by now it’s body temperature instead of cold.

“There you are.” Val chuckles, running his thumb over my lower lip. “Did you know you snore when you’re on your back?”

I blink once, then twice, and my eyes narrow at him. “Do not,” I retort, sitting up and looking out at the surprisingly flat, sunny landscape. “God, it looks warm. I’m sort of feeling cold and stormy, not warm and grossly sunny.” I sigh dejectedly. “It makes me feel like I should be doing something productive.”

“Because being our murder cheerleader isn’t productive?” Val stretches now that I’m off of him, and I slide the bottle of coffee back into the plastic bag from the truck stop. “I was thinking about getting pom-poms for next time. Wouldn’t that be cute? And you absolutely do snore, by the way. Kieran?—”

“Is not taking sides.” His drowsy voice comes from the front seat, prompting me to glance up at him. He’s leaning back against the seat, his hair tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it and he looks a little worn out. “Remember what I said, by the way?” He opens his eyes, pinning my gaze when he turns in his seat. “You will not be helping.”

“I’m probably not a very good accomplice, anyway. I cried when you made me murder that guy in the woods,” I remind them airily. “So you don’t have any complaints from me on that front.”

Kieran just looks at me like he might not believe me. “Anyway…” Without another word, he gets out, standing up to close the door behind him. I do the same, scrambling out the passenger side of the back seat and looking at where we are.

I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe a rundown house or park or graveyard. Maybe an Old West ghost town, because that seems like a good place to kill someone in Texas.

What I don’t expect is an ancient, dilapidated motel on a street with more of the same style of buildings, all of them in a blocky, concrete style that screams industrial . This place and every other one looks abandoned, especially under the hot Texas sun, which beats down mercilessly to soak into my black roots. It’s not an Old West town, but it sure is abandoned.

“You guys really have a thing for industrial districts, don’t you?” I murmur, walking closer to the old building. The letters have mostly worn off by now, and I link my hands behind my back, staring up at the memory of the word MOTEL on the concrete. With the busted windows and broken off door, I can’t imagine why someone would come here willingly.

I certainly wouldn’t, if I wasn’t here with them.

“Yeah,” Val chuckles, walking toward me with a backpack and a duffel bag on his shoulders. Wordlessly I take the backpack, and he murmurs his thanks as I slip it over my shoulders while checking to make sure my phone is in my pocket. “I guess we sort of do. But everyone has a style, right?” With that, he takes off at a brisk walk, moving through the broken off door and into the dark interior. Kieran follows, casting me a glance, without saying a word as I just stand there.

“Yeah…” I sigh finally, turning to look once more at the lone street running between the many ugly, blocky buildings. A breeze picks up, and I can almost feel the moisture being leached from my skin in the dry Texas air. “Everyone certainly has…something.”