Page 56 of Endless Love

The man’s gaze follows, too, and I see the fear that flickers in his eyes. “Hey now, I don’t want any trouble?—”

“And there won’t be any,” Ivan says easily. “Just so long as you hand over the keys to your car. Now,” he adds, his fingers twitching against his side, and the man’s eyes widen as his face pales. “No sudden movements or calling for help. And then we’ll leave you be.”

I see the man swallow hard, his gaze darting between me and Ivan. I can see him weighing his options, considering what thebest choice is. If he should acquiesce, or if trying to call for help or running is an option. If Ivan will really do what he says he will.

My stomach twists, and I stare at the man, willing him to just hand over the keys. I don’t think Ivan would hurt this man. I think he would just move on to another option. But I don’t want to find out.

The man lets out a heavy breath. “Alright,” he says, his voice taut with fear, the whites of his eyes rolling like a startled horse. “Just—don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Throw the keys over here, and it’ll be fine.” Ivan’s fingers stay at the edge of his shirt, a warning. “And don’t call the cops. You call anyone on us, put anyone on our tail, you’ll regret it.”

That can’t possibly be true. We’re leaving the state, and Ivan’s family isn’t answering favors from him. But the man is too frightened to question if Ivan is telling the truth or not. He just nods rapidly, throwing the keys across the pavement.

“Grab them and hand them to me.” Ivan’s voice is still sharp, unnaturally cold for how he usually speaks to me. “And then get in the car when I unlock it.”

He doesn’t use my name, and I can guess why. Ihatethat I can guess why, because that means I’m getting used to all of this. That it’s all starting to make sense to me.

I scoop the keys up, handing them to Ivan. Almost immediately, he hits the button to unlock the car, and I go without thinking, half-hobbling, half-running to the passenger’s side. I fling myself into the car, not daring to look and see if anyone else is noticing us, and stare down at my scratched, bruised hands, forcing myself not to listen. Not to try to hear what else Ivan might be saying.

A second later, he’s in the car next to me. He presses a button on the dash, the car revving to life, and slams his foot against the gas, pulling out of the station a little too quickly.

“He’s going to call someone,” I whisper. My throat feels scratchy and dry, and I desperately want water. “He’s going to report the car?—”

“No, he won’t,” Ivan says grimly.

“How do you know?—”

“He’s too scared to do anything but follow instructions. And by the time he figures it out, or his wife or grandkids or someone calls the police for him, we will have dumped this car and gotten a new one. But in the meantime—” Ivan’s jaw is set as he pulls out onto the highway, his eyes straight ahead on the road. “Now we’re a step ahead. For a little while longer.”

I sag back against the seat, not wanting to think about what happens when Bradley catches up. If Lev is still alive. About the fact that there’s still plenty of miles between us and Vegas, and once we’re there, we still have to finish what we’re going there to do.

There’s plenty of time left for it to all go wrong.

“I’m an accomplice now,” I whisper. “Murder. Grand theft auto. Probably some other stuff I can’t think of right now?—”

“That’s the least of your worries at this point,” Ivan says grimly. He doesn’t look away from the road, and I stare at him blankly, wondering if I hit my head harder than I thought.

“Murderis the least of my worries?” My voice rises to a higher pitch, and Ivan lets out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I’m not trying to diminish it. And I suppose I’m a little numb to all of this, after so long. But before too long, we’ll be in Vegas, and we’ll scrub everything well enough that the law won’t be able to catch us. And Bradley, local police—those I’m not afraid of. But?—”

He trails off, and something in my stomach clenches painfully at the thought that heisafraid of something. Ivan, to me, seems almost invincible. I’ve never known anyone who livesthe way he does, unapologetically and, until today, seemingly fearlessly. But I can see the pinched white at the corners of his mouth, the look in his eyes that tells me that’s not entirely the case.

“I’m afraid of them getting you,” he says finally. “My father. Lev, if he’s not dead. Hell, even Ani, if he’s survived. He’s stupid, but he’s still a useful enough tool. That scares me. And it should scare you, too, more than any crimes we’ve committed. Those I can wipe away. But if they catch us before we get to safety?—”

Ivan lets out a heavy breath. “It’ll be fine,” he murmurs, and I half wonder if he’s saying it to me, or to himself. “It’ll be okay.”

He glances over at me after a moment, the car slowing to only a little over the speed limit. “Can you make it for a while? Until I can find somewhere safe for us to stop?”

My eyes feel heavy. “Can I sleep?”

“You probably shouldn’t. If you hit your head?—”

Ivan is still speaking. But the rest of his voice drones away into nothingness, as the heavy fog slides over me, claiming me in the heaviest sleep I’ve had since Ivan stole me from my apartment.

24

IVAN

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