Page 56 of Corrupt Me

“Leave it.” Tristan’s voice shot through the enclosed interior.

I shifted in my seat, angling toward him. “How am I supposed to get Sam’s car? Do you plan on driving me back tomorrow?” Neither of us wanted that. I didn’t even know how I would survive the three hours alone with him it would take to get back to school.

“We’re not going back tonight. Not in this storm,” he stated calmly, a complete contrast to the chaos swirling within me.

“Where are we going?” I demanded, letting my anger take the driver’s seat.

He took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at me. “Somewhere safe and dry. Don’t worry, I won’t make you sleep in the car.”

“If that’s supposed to reassure me, it doesn’t.” A night alone with Tristan…just what I fucking needed. Normally, I would argue, but I was too damn tired. Too mentally exhausted. And my ankle throbbed like a bitch.

Tristan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Just try and?—”

Pop!

It sounded like a bullet discharging from a gun, like it did on TV. I’d never been around guns to know for sure, but I jumped, my heart lurching in my chest. My fingers clung to the edge of my seat as the car suddenly started making a clunking noise, and the drive became rougher and jerkier. I was no car expert, but something definitely broke.

Tristan slammed on the brakes. “Fucking great,” he hissed, the lines of his body stiffening.

I held the edge of the seat, peering over the hood, but the rain and darkness made it impossible to see anything. “Did you just blow a tire?”

He sat up straighter in his seat. “I’m afraid so, Shortcake.”

I sank deeper into the leather at my back. “Can this night get worse?”

“Stay here,” he grumbled, opening his door and dashing into the rain again.

As if I was going to get out of the car in a storm like this. Now that I was somewhere dry, the idea of going back out in it made me shudder.

Tristan came back a few moments later after inspecting the front left tire. “I have a spare in the truck. Sit tight.”

“You’re going to change it right now?”

“Unless you prefer to walk a few miles. The choice is yours.”

I didn’t know why the thought of Tristan changing a tire on the side of the road during a rainstorm bothered me. He was more than capable of doing the job. Yet, I didn’t want him to go out there. “Can’t you call Triple A or someone?”

He hit a button that popped open his trunk. “I could, but it will be faster if I do it myself than waiting around for them to dispatch someone to us.”

My brows furrowed. “Do you even know how to change a tire?”

“Do you know how to apply lipstick?” he snapped.

I bristled at that. Tristan knew how much I hated to be compared to the stereotypical rich girl. I was more than just my daddy’s money. “Do you have any idea how sexist that statement is?”

“Touché, Shortcake,” he said, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he once again got out of the car and braced the torrential downpour that continued to plunge from the sky.

“Whatever,” I muttered to myself, crossing my arms. “Let him be a macho idiot.”

I stared out the foggy window, listening to Tristan work. The clang of tools. The grinding of the carjack. The twisting of bolts. The beating of rain dropped into the background, becoming white noise.

Without him sitting next to me and annoying me with his presence, my mind drifted, a dangerous endeavor. I fished out my phone from my waterlogged back pocket to distract myself, praying the thing still functioned. I’d left my purse in Sam’s car along with my wallet, ID, and debit card. Basically, my whole life. All I had with me was my phone, a tube of ChapStick, and Sam’s car keys.

A slight exhale slipped through my lips when the phone lit up, displaying a string of missed texts from my best friend. I’d told her I’d be back tonight. That was obviously not happening thanks to the lug outside.

I quickly sent her a text.

I’m not going to be home tonight. I got hijacked by the asshole.

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