Page 21 of Warmer, Colder

Now. This is not the time to test me. Get the hell outside,Murphy.

Tossing my phone on my bed I reluctantly comply with Nate’s request. I know that nothing he’d ask of me could be painless, but I hold onto the hope that it’s quick.

With a monumental effort—my mind sluggishly stitching itself back together with my body—I pull on my purple university sweatshirt and a pair of striped pajama shorts before slipping on some sneakers. Wiping my hands up and down my face, I force myself to mentally come back to the present, leaving behind the comforting memory with my mom that I’d escaped to. The house isn’t huge, but the walk to the front door is a trek, my used body stiff and revolting. My knees creak on rusty hinges with each step across the street.

“What?” A plume of breathy air races ahead of me as I approach.

“Be fucking quiet,” Nate hisses, latching his hand around my wrist and tugging me closer so that I’m right up against his car. I twist my head to glare at him and my stomach drops when I see the cut on his neck and then the reddened indent of teeth in his cheek.

“What happened to you?” The question is barely out of my mouth before his other hand smothers it. It takes great restraint to resist the urge to bite down and give him a matching wound; that will only make things worse. “I mean it, Becca. Don’t make a fucking sound. Do you hear me?” He waits for me to nod. “You’re going to be calm, cool, and collected, and you’re going to help me deal with this.” There’s no other option but to nod again. His hand doesn’t move as he turns us toward the car.

There’s another woman in his car.Has she been waiting here the whole time? Does she know why he came?One second, I’m fighting the urge to yell at her to stay far the hell away from him and the next I’m second-guessing everything, silently trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Her posture’s slumped and awkward and her hair’s covering her face in a messy nest. My gut twists. My eyes dart between her and Nate, then back again to study the woman more carefully, tracing her slightly upturned nose, the blush tint of her hair, and the familiar tattoos on her thighs. Piece by piece I see the horrific picture come together.

“Nate,” I catch my breath, “Tell me she’s sleeping.”

He’s silent at my side, his fingers shifting tighter against my face.

Icy panic seizes me. “Nate, no!” It would be a shrill scream, but it’s muffled by his firm grip.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nate growls against my ear, each word punctuated by his fingers digging into my cheeks. “Keep it the fuck together unless you want to end up just like her.”

Her,as in I don’t know her name.Her,as in the siren in the night who came to tempt me away from the safe route I’vemapped for an easy life.Her, as in the livewire who came into my life and rebooted a long-lost part of myself.

The more time that passes as we stand here, the more I hope that this is some sick prank. Another round of psychological warfare. But she remains unconscious, and Nate doesn’t laugh or loosen his hold.

Tears spill over my lashes, dripping down his hand, then my chin. “You have ten seconds to cut that shit out, then I’m going to remove my hand and we’re going to deal with this.”

Refuse. Scream. Do something.The truest part of me protests.

My teeth chatter with how hard I’m shivering, my body revolting against my complacency. “She can’t be—” I fight to speak against the short breaths that tear through me. “We can’t just—” I suck in another gasp of air and tug at the handle frantically, but it’s locked. My wrist is pinned beneath me as he crushes my body against the driver’s side door. I squirm, but my muscles go rigid at the first prick of the knife to my side.

“It’s not my fault your little girlfriend decided to come over and play hero.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well, she definitely isn’t anymore.”

I scoff in disgust at his sick joke.

“Look Murphy, this is getting done one way or another. Either you’re going to get your act together and be helpful or you’re going to get a new scar for every time you resist me.”

My sob of ‘okay’ is swallowed up by his hand, but he can see me nodding.

“Atta girl.” He guides me around the car, with his fingers laced through my limp ones, then opens the door like the chivalrous gentleman he’ll never be. He looks left, then right, scanning the area to make sure no neighbors are out and about—an extra step of precaution, nobody is ever out after nine unless it’s me orAiden. Too bad he’s out of town this weekend. “Okay. You’ll grab her legs. I’ll carry her top half.”

My limbs buzz with the need to run, but I force my body to cooperate; it’s the only way to survive. “Where are we taking her?” I whisper.

“We’re going to bury her in your backyard.” My grip slackens with shock and her legs slip several inches in my grip.

“We can’t do that.” Despite my objections I keep moving; standing in the middle of the street with her isn’t an alternative.

“Yes. We. Can.” He slows so I can step back onto the curb. “That wasn’t a request. Your parents are out of town; no one will ever know if we cover it up well.”

“What about her car? Who knows who’s seen her?” The words are fast and harsh as they battle for space between my rapid breaths.

“I’m going to deal with her car. Your neighborhood is quiet as fuck; you and I both know all these people have been safely tucked in their beds for hours by now.” He drones on, but my attention catches on the ends of her gorgeous hair dragging through the dirty street. My fingers twitch with the need to sweep it over her shoulder, but I don’t dare ask him to stop. My wrists scream with tension and my legs are on fire as we waddle awkwardly through the grass. The entire time, both our heads are whipping around checking for any sign of being watched—a light flicking on, the scuffle of feet, even a gasp—but somehow, we make it behind the house and into the privacy of the backyard without incident. I buckle with relief, but Nate isn’t ready for it, and her body hits the ground with a resounding thud that immediately sends the little food I’m able to get down these days right back up.

“Get it the fuck together. You’re disgusting.” Turning away from me, Nate covers his nose with his sleeve. The irony of himgetting squeamish over me puking but not when carrying a dead body is astounding.

---