Page 30 of The Wrong Drive

“Get up.”

“Just get it over with,” I scream out, finally getting the nerve to look up at Turner. My eyes meet his, and there’snothingin the dark irises as they peer down at me. I suddenly hate every ounce of empathy I ever gave this man.

“Get. Up.” He presses the barrel into my back with more force.

“No,” I spit fire at him, my fear shifting to anger. “Just fuckingdoit, Turner.”

His neck warmer is pulled up past his nose, but he jerks it down and then kneels to get eye level with me. He drops his rifle in the snow, and I attempt to shy away as his gloved fingers wrap around my jaw. My teeth chatter as he draws my face to his, our noses brushing, eyes locked—andfinally,I see a flicker of something so painful, I have to look away.

“I don’twantto kill you. If I wanted to, I would’ve by now.” His voice is so quiet, I can barely make out his words.

Anger burns in my chest, and I can’t hold back any longer. “Yeah? But from afar, right? Because you wouldn’t have the fuckingballsto look me in the eye when you put a bullet in my head.”

His brows raise, and time seems to freeze for a moment, the two of us locked in that position. I swallow hard as his grip digs into my skin, and he then tips my head back. His gaze dropping to my lips. For a moment, I think he might kiss me.

But instead, he drops his hand away and rises. Turner picks up his rifle, slings it over his shoulder, and then disappears into the night, leaving me there. I brush my numb fingers across my jaw, still feeling a burning sensation from where his hand was. I eye the face-down dead body of my ex-boyfriend—who had come to rescue me.

I zone out, my eyes blurry with moisture.

And then it hits me.

He has a phone.

I crawl across the snow to his body, and then hesitate, the blood having melted the snow around him. I take a deep breath and then go for his pockets, fishing forsomething.

“You won’t find his phone,” I hear Turner from somewhere in the woods. “Or his gun.”

Because you took it,I think glancing up through the trees in the direction of where Turner disappeared. I try to breathe as I stand wearily to my feet, Gunner still sitting and watching me with curiosity. My legs tremble as I wipe the fresh tears from my face.

Should I make a run for it?The thought crosses my mind as I watch the distance grow between Turner and me. Internally, I know that it’s useless, but the desperation and…angerI feel toward Turner makes me want vengeance—or something. I don’t even knowhowto reason with what just happened.

It was to protect Gunner, maybe.Big maybe.

I grit my teeth as I trudge in the direction of Turner, my fists clenched and Gunner following me closely. As I break from the trees, I see Adam’s Jeep tearing through the now open gate. It’s equipped with snow chains and clearly, Turner knows howto drive in the snow. He stops inside the gate, and goes back, shutting and locking it.

He doesn’t even look in my direction as he climbs back in my dead ex-boyfriend’s car and roars past me, using acceleration and quick swerves to power around large drifts. I stand in knee deep snow, watching the Jeep until it disappears somewhere.

“What do I do?” I ask Gunner, batting away fresh tears. “I’m so fucked now.”

Gunner tilts his head at me, and then bounds off in the direction of Turner. The dog has no idea how big of a monster his master is—and if he does, he doesn’t care. My shoulders slump as I start after him, leaving Adam’s body in the cold. My mind replays the moments before Adam was killed, and the mixed emotions that follow are almost as horrifying as the death itself.

Adam was never thenicestboyfriend, but he wasn’t the worst, either. Sure, he got a little mouthy, but for fuck’s sake, he didn’t deserve to be shot in the head. He was doing his duty, coming to rescue me—and Turnershothim. My stomach lurches again as I crest the hill, seeing the barn door slid open. Turner hops in the Jeep and pulls into the barn.

And just like that, the Jeep is gone as soon as the door closes.

No one will find us out here.

I wrap my arms around myself as Turner steps through the walk-through door, freshly cleared. His face warmer is down around his neck, and at first, he doesn’t notice me. His expression is almost…grim.He runs a hand down his face, and then notices me, hardening his gaze.

“Go inside.” His words are eerily calm. In fact, he appears under the single pole light as fatigued as ever. “Go,” Turner repeats when I just stand there, watching him. His gesture toward the cabin gets me in motion. Every step feels heavy, numb, and I’m not sure if it’s the shock or the cold.

Maybe both.

I don’t say a word to him as I make my way to the cabin, lugging myself up the steps. I push open the door, the warmth burning my face. The scent of dinner still hangs in the air, and some soft tune still plays on my laptop. I let it keep playing as I shove off my shoes and head straight for the hearth.

Collapsing on the floor, I leave on my soaked jacket, jeans, and stare into the flames, licking up fresh heat—all the while Adam lays dead in the snow somewhere outside. I don’t know what Turner’s going to do with the body, but I hear a rumbling engine, reminding me of a tractor or some sort of equipment.

And then it hits me.

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