Page 83 of The Darkest Note

Dutch recovers quickly. Turning, he drags me out the door and down the steps.

My body buzzes with fury and I push at his fingers. “Let me go.”

“Keep fighting and I’m going tocarryyou into that homecoming dance. Over my shoulder.” His eyes are dark and I know he’s good for the threat because he’s done it twice before.

“Screw you,” I hiss.

His smirk is sinister and makes my body throb in the worst way.

“You keep begging for it and I just might, Brahms.”

I stop struggling immediately.

Dutch juts his chin at the car and I huff before climbing in. His brothers join me and we’re off.

The silence is broken only by my aggravated breaths. I glare a hole into Dutch’s head, ignoring the way Finn observes it all.

Zane clears his throat. “Cadence, I heard this was your old high school.”

“Don’t engage her,” Dutch scolds him.

What? Are they supposed to treat me like I’m not even here? I slant another dagger look his way and answer Zane haughtily. “Yes, I attended that high school.”

“Is that why you acted like you were sick? Because there’s something there you don’t want to see?” Finn asks.

“Or someone?” Zane turns around in the passenger seat and wiggles his eyebrows.

The car suddenly lurches to a stop.

Finn almost smacks his face into the headrest.

Zane grips his seatbelt tight.

I grab the door handle and am spared from whiplash.

“Dutch, what the hell? What kind of driving is that?” Zane yells.

“There’s a red light,” Dutch grumbles.

Finn gives his brother a narrow-eyed look. And then he turns to me so our knees are almost touching. “Is it an ex?”

“I—”

“What the hell is this? An interrogation?” Dutch growls.

“We’re just asking questions,” Zane says.

“Don’t ask a damn thing. She’s not going to be around long enough for the answers to matter anyway.”

I wish I was sitting behind Dutch so I could kick his chair.

“He’s right. I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I say pertly.

Finn just grins.

Dutch turns the radio on. “No more talking!”

“Bossy,” Zane teases, but he kicks his legs up on the dashboard, beats out the rhythm of the song on his thigh and doesn’t ask me anymore questions.

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