Page 79 of Heart Sick Hate

Of course. I should have known there’s no winning against the devil.

“What do you want?” I pop a bubble.

“Get in the car, Goldie.”

He turns and walks back to his car, opening the passenger door.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I have an appointment.”

“I rescheduled it.”

“You can’t just reschedule my appointments.” I storm over to him. “You didn’t even know if you would win.”

Crew leans in, and I realize I’ve placed myself in his bubble. “I always win.”

My hands clench at my sides, and I wish I didn’t notice how good he smells when he’s skipped the cologne today, and it’s just his shampoo clouding my judgment.

“Now get in the car, or I’ll pick you up and throw you in myself.”

My core shouldn’t clench when he’s being an asshole, but I can’t help how my body reacts to hating him.

“Fine.” I grit my teeth and climb in, crossing my arms over my chest as he slams the car door shut behind me.

At this point, it’s the path of least resistance. And the one that will draw the least amount of attention to anyone passing on the street.

Crew gets in and starts the engine, his expression’s passive as he pulls out onto the road.

“So where are you taking me?”

“Oakland.”

“What?” I spin to face him in my seat. “I’m not going to Oakland with you.”

“You sitting beside me right now says the contrary.” He plants a tattooed hand on my thigh and my skin prickles. “Besides,heads, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me what we were playing for. Manipulation isn’t winning.”

He squeezes my thigh, lighting a path of heat all the way up to my core. “It’s cute you still think I have limits on how low I’ll go to get to you, Goldie.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes, popping my gum. “And what about Rhett? I was supposed to go see him later.”

“Your boyfriend’s busy planning his holy comeback, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Crew grits his jaw, pulling his handaway. “Not to mention… he’s still healing from his bullet wound.”

I rub my palms over my thighs, guilt creeping through. My boyfriend’s barely a day out of the hospital, and I’m being kidnapped to Oakland by his brother. And as much as I know I should probably jump out each time we hit a stoplight, I don’t. Because I want this, whether I should or not.

“How long are we going to be gone for?” I cross my arms over my chest, giving in to the fact that I’m not even fighting this.

“A day.” He shrugs. “Two max.”

“Don’t I at least get to pack? I need a toothbrush at the very least.”

Crew tips his chin to the backseat. “Already done.”

Turning, I see a familiar black duffle bag in the backseat. Red roses and skulls decorate it. Until recently, Crew never used the key to my apartment. Apparently, now he has no problem letting himself in whenever he pleases.

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