Page 2 of Can't Stop
“What? I won’t try to buy it, don’t worry.” I scoot out of the booth before he can argue further.
The busboy follows me to the strange creature. It looks like a hairless black fox with massive spines protruding from its shoulders and along its back. Sharp, glistening teeth shine from inside its snarling mouth, and its glassy eyes hold so much life despite being both dead and fictional. The craftsmanship is incredible.
The busboy smiles and tucks the empty bus tub under his arm. “You wouldn’t be able to buy it. Not for all the money in the world. The man who crafted it lives in some strange town in Florida, and my great grandmother refuses to return there. She called it ciudad de los muertos—the city of the dead.”
Hmm . . . sounds like my kind of city.
“Why’d she call it that?” I ask.
He shrugs and situates the large gray bus tub on his hip. “Probably because the entire town was obsessed with preserving dead things. Everywhere you looked, something had been frozen in its death state.” He shivers and shakes his head. “No, it’s no place for people like us.”
With that, he walks away, and I return to the table. The food has been brought out, and Dalton has scarfed half of his beans already. I take a seat and shovel a few forkfuls into my mouth to quiet my stomach before pulling out my phone.
“What’re you up to, bones?”
Ignoring him, I continue with my detective work and soon discover the name of the city of the dead. As a smirk slides across my face, I turn the phone toward him.
“How do you feel about Florida?”
Chapter Two
Dalton
My relationship with Rayna could be likened to a hostage situation. She’s unhinged, volatile, and a little mean at times. A rational man would have run for the hills long ago, but she’s tethered me to her and refuses to release me. I do her bidding—much to my displeasure at times—because of my undying love for her. I’m a man obsessed.
That’s why I’m currently picking my way through the southern section of Virginia as I chart a course toward Oak Hollow in Florida.
I glance over at Rayna. She looks out the window as she fingers the tattered ear on that godforsaken squirrel. He’s her comfort object, her most beloved possession. I reach over and slide my hand into hers. Because she’s mine.
A figure stands on the side of the road ahead. The man holds a cardboard sign and sticks his thumb toward our car as we approach. Rayna sits a little straighter in her seat when she spots him.
“Couldn’t we?—”
“No, bones. You know we can’t.”
She sits back with a little grumble. “Why not? We’re currently on the move. By the time they find his body, we’ll be in Florida.”
The man slides by, and I don’t even slow the car.
“Fuck, I’m so bored.” Rayna kicks the dash and folds her arms over her chest. “This life was supposed to be exciting. I can’t chase a high only once a year. It’s not enough.”
Keeping the kills to one night a year has proven more difficult than we first anticipated. For both of us. She needs the excitement, the adrenaline rush. I need the release. The control.
I spot our exit ahead, so I merge onto the offramp. “What about the activities list? Maybe we could try some of those things. Besides, it’s almost Halloween.”
We came up with a list of thrilling activities to try throughout our travels. Things that are slightly dangerous or run the risk of getting us caught, but also things that don’t have the sort of jail sentence that murder brings.
“Let’s fuck on the railroad tracks.”
“What?” I nearly merge into a semi as I pull into traffic. “You can’t be serious. That wasn’t even on the list.”
“I’m definitely serious, and I just thought of it. We can make a game out of it. No moving from the tracks until we come.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes, both of us. You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” She punches something into her phone, and seconds later, she’s directing me down side streets.
“So, what . . . we can’t kill other people, so we’re just going to kill ourselves?”
