Page 84 of Devoured
“Hey,” she said again, then smacked my shoulder as a friendly gesture. “You need him, right? Like need him,needhim. Need him for more than the club. Need his dick and heart, or something, right?” Was there any point in denying it? “I see that look in your eye. I know how you two were looking at each other.” She angled towards the back door to the side of the kitchen. “If you want him, go get him.”
She made it seem so simple, like I could confess my feelings and he’d carry me off into the sunset, where our dreams were made of cupcakes and candy and little produce stands on the side of the road. But life was so much harder than that. Real life, when you wanted a future together, you had to work towards it, and worktogether. Could Roland and I ever do that?
“What if he doesn’t want me?” I asked.
Kendall hit the wall with a flat palm in annoyance. “Shut the hell up and stop this pity party. If he doesn’t want you, then that’s his loss. Believe me. If that’s the case, he’s a fucking idiot.” She leaned in, making our eyes meet, “But if you don’t go out the door and get your man right now, that’syourloss.” She rolled her eyes. “Give it one last shot. Don’t be a dumb ass.”
One last shot. If he was already moving on, then fine, that would be it.
But I could do this.
“But the club?” I asked. I knew those words illuminated my problem. The Dahlia District was home, but Roland was home too. Roland was love.
Wait. Had I used that word?
“Go after him. I’ll watch over the club.” She winked. “The club will survive without you for one night. Let me prove that I can be a good assistant manager.”
I was hesitant, but I wanted to trust her. I needed to trust her. Like I needed to trust Roland.
I picked myself up and grabbed my purse out of the dorm room, then passed Kendall in the kitchen on my way to the back door.
“Thanks,” I told her.
“You would do the same for us,” she said.
As I walked to the parking lot, I went over the words in my head:You were right. Business shouldn’t always come first. Not when it comes to love. Because the club doesn’t need you, not like I do. I need you, Roland. I always have. I want to learn from you. To teach you too. To be with you. To love you.I muttered those words aloud as I reached the cars, then glanced up, looking for Teagen’s old junker. It was darker than I expected; a few of the lamp posts were out. That was something I’d have to do as the owner: submit a work order to the maintenance staff in the morning.
“I love you, Roland,” I practiced. I slid into the driver’s seat, putting the key in the ignition. I rolled down the window, dialed him on my phone, and held out the phone until it connected to service. “The club doesn’t need you like I do,” I said to myself.
A hand wrestled in my hair, yanking me back against the seat, making me drop my phone onto the asphalt. A sharp knife at my throat. I froze in place. A low, familiar voice said, “Don’t scream.”
I held my breath. But I couldn’t place where I knew that voice. Who was he?
“Did Roland send you?” I asked. It must have been one of the two guys from that very first night, the fake abduction. “You’re from Roland’s security, right?” I laughed. “Is this another abduction fantasy? A way to get me to trust him again?”
“Roland who?”
In those two words, it was clear who he was. My heart raced. Despite the wind whipping through the open window, sweat beaded on my forehead, mixed with the drizzle of rain.
“The staff on duty won’t notice that surveillance is out for a few more minutes. But I have a gun,” he dug the knife into my throat, pinching at the skin, I breathed through my teeth. “And I’ve got nothing left to lose. We’re going to take a drive, all right?”
He let go of my hair. Those beady black eyes shifted in the rearview mirror. The babyface. His newly dyed hair. Jake.
“You’re supposed to be in prison,” I muttered.
“Not for another week.”
He pulled the gun out of his jacket pocket, the metal gleaming in the mirror. “Drive,” he ordered.
A back road took us through the woods, to an RV glowing amongst the trees like a lone set of wolf eyes. I held my breath. What the hell was happening?
When he saw that I was staring, he cocked the gun hammer, the click unmistakable through the chirps of insects. “Hurry up,” he said. “We haven’t got all night.”
I walked to the RV. It was unlocked. The door creaked as I opened it. Inside, there was a long black stain on the floor, partially covered up by a faded rug. The small fold up table in front of the couch was clean, save for an overflowing dish of cigarette stubs. Jake grabbed the dish and dumped it.
“Forgot about that,” he said to himself. “Swear I tried to clean up.”
The stench of body odor and tobacco wafted through the air. A bright blue velvet blanket covered the couch, probably covering a stain too. A beanie in a heap on the armrest. Wait—was that a beanie, or a ski-mask?
