Page 54 of Wicked Ends
“I’m not married,” I managed to get out around a huge mouthful of food.
Imelda beamed. “Perfect,” she breathed.
Bill and I exchanged a look, and I fought down a smile at his mom’s enthusiasm.
Half an hour later, after borrowing a button-down that I’d tucked into my skirt and rolled the sleeves of, and washing and pinning back my hair, I was ready to go. I had the bag at my feet.
Bill narrowed his eyes at it. “Do you want to leave that here?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I need it. Actually, if we could make a stop on the way to campus, that would be amazing.”
“Sure, I need to get a coffee anyway,” Bill said agreeably.
Once we were in town, Bill headed to the most popular coffee spot for two takeout cappuccinos, and I went to the bus station.
I paid for as many days as the automated system would allow, then chose a random locker and stuffed the bag inside. I slid the key fob onto the same key ring as my Night Owl key then tucked the keys in my purse.
Was this crazy? There was a hell of a lot of money in that bag… but how was I going to make Marcus see sense without some kind of leverage? In the harsh light of day, taking the bag felt rash, but what was done was done.
I headed back to the car as Bill appeared with my coffee.
“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.” I took the hot paper cup from him.
“No, this coffee is. At least we’re feeling okay today… Wade is going to have one hell of a hangover.”
I took a sip and relaxed a little. Everything was going to be fine. I’d be able to make Marcus listen to me now. Everything was going to work out.
Except for the fact that you want him bad.
I coughed as coffee went down the wrong pipe.
“All okay?” Bill reached out to touch my shoulder as a loud rumble filled the street. Someone gunned a powerful engine, the purr of it angry and threatening somehow, like a wolf’s growl.
“Fine,” I said, distracted.
A biker on a powerful-looking motorcycle had slowed as he drove down the street. A shiny black visor was pointed right at me, and I knew in a heartbeat that it was Marcus.
He gunned the engine again, sitting there watching me, holding up traffic along Main Street. Someone honked their horn—Marcus was causing a holdup, after all—but he didn’t flinch. He stared in our direction.
“Okay, is it me, or is that guy staring at us?” Bill sipped his coffee.
I gripped my cup tightly. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Let’s get going just in case.”
I nodded and followed Bill to his car, ducking inside gratefully. I could still see that black helmet swiveled in my direction. Damn Marcus and his games. I was starting to think I’d thrown down a challenge that was too big for me to handle. So far, using the bag as leverage didn’t seem to be working.
Bill pulled out, and a moment later, the bike was behind us.
“I think we’ve got company.” Bill glanced out at the side mirror. “I hope we didn’t piss anyone off at The Clutch last night with my bad singing.”
“You were great,” I argued and tried my best to keep my eyes from the side mirror and the bike behind us.
I rested my arm on the passenger-side window and pressed it against the cool glass. What would Marcus do next to call my bluff? Would I take that bag to the cops? Of course not. And I had a horrible feeling he knew that.
“Hey, isn’t this morning the music department showcase? You’re going to play something for the school, right?”
“Oh, right.” Bill’s question dragged my attention back. Damn it all to hell. I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t want to do it, but the rest of the staff had twisted my arm last night. I wasn’t even sure I could make myself play in front of a roomful of people right now. I hadn’t even managed to help that student with the tricky bar in the Chopin piece. I shouldn’t have caved and agreed, but the need to people please ran deep.
