Page 50 of Sinners' Appetite
“Nolan didn’t—touch you?”
She shakes her head. “No. He was the one that knocked me out, but—he kept his hands to himself.”
“And Sammi?”
“That was Paul.” Her eyes widen as soon as she says his name. “Fuck… Paul…”
“Do you remember what he looks like?” I ask.
“No. I didn’t actually see his face. I only heard his voice and saw the back of his head as Nolan picked me up out of the trunk.”
I’ll make it my fucking mission to find out who he is and track him down. Then I’ll let the girls call the shots on how to torture him.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I honestly thought I’d never get to see you, or anyone, ever again,” she whimpers. “Thinking about what it was like to be with you was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind. I still don’t know why Nolan decided to take us.”
“I think I might know why. There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“What?” she asks, tilting her head to the side curiously.
“I know about Justin…” I admit. “I know he was the one that assaulted you at the club.”
Her eyes widen and she pulls her hand away from mine. “Jeremy told you, didn’t he?”
“I lied about what happened, Nikki. I killed him.”
“But—Nolan didn’t say anything about that.”
“That’s because he hasn’t been found yet.”
She sits there silently for a few moments before responding. “So Nolan probably thinks I had something to do with his disappearance?”
“More than likely.”
“I don’t even know what to say…”
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I guess I whacked him a little harder than his thin skull could handle.”
“Where is he?” she asks with a hint of hesitation in her tone.
“Behind the dumpster, at the club. I’m sure they’ll find him soon enough.”
“Jeremy knows about all of this?”
I nod. “I’m sorry, Nikki. I should have told you.”
“I understand why you didn’t. It’s just—a lot to take in.”
“I didn’t want to freak you out.”
She lets out a half-laugh. “It doesn’t freak me out. It’s not like you’re a serial killer or anything.”
“Is there anything I can get you before I leave?” I ask, trying to change the subject. She doesn’t need to know about what I did back in Ohio. She doesn’t need to know about Amber. Not yet, anyway.
“I think I just need some rest,” she says, slowly lowering her head to the pillow.
I reach up and brush the strands of hair out of her face, grazing the size of her cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ll come back in the morning.”
