Page 82 of Crawl
“You’re just going to use this as an excuse to drug and rape me too, just like that girl from high school!”
Peter furrows his brows, but otherwise, he ignores my retort. “Cash was manipulating you. Psychopaths are good at that,” he says. My heart rams into the sides of my rib cage, threatening to break loose. “If you come with me, Cash will come on his own. But if you don’t come willingly…” He shakes his head, but I can see right through his false reluctance. “He needs to die in prison, Remmie. I don’t want to kill him.”
Those words stop me. Finally, I meet Peter’s eyes. There’s a hint of pride inside of him. He knows he has me trapped under his thumb now.
“But I will kill him if I have to,” he says.
I can’t let Cash die.
My phone vibrates, knocking us both out of the trance. Peter’s eyes light up. He grabs my purse, then pulls out my phone and glances at the screen, reading the text message preview.
“The parking lot, huh?” he says. “Ten o’clock.”
“I’m not going to tell you where it is,” I snap.
“I know where it is. I put a tracker in your car. You went there the other night, right?” He clicks the touchscreen. “Now, what’s the passcode? I want to text him saying you’ll be there soon.”
“No fucking way. I’m not helping you.”
He opens the front door. “Then we’ll meet him there anyway.”
His white car with black rims sits out front. I’m surprised that it’s not his police car, but then this whole thing must be under the radar. Whatever this is, it’s personal to Peter, like heneedsto capture Cash to prove himself. He helps me into the backseat, buckling me in, and I glare at the rearview mirror.
“We’ve got some time to kill. And I can help you as much as you help me,” he says. “Is there anything else you want to tell me about your relationship with Winstone?”
I clench my jaw, my body heavy with anger. Even if I’m pissed at Cash—even if I know I’m going to jail anyway—I’mnotgoing to pretend to be sorry for what I’ve done, nor am I going to help Peter. I’ll take the blame for my stepdad’s death, and Cash will have to answer for his own crimes.
But they’re my crimes too. My stepdad. My stepbrother. My ex.
My wishes.His fulfillment.
Cash had killed people. And I had killed my stepdad.
When no one else had, Cash saw me. He understood me. He listened to me.
Cash is fucking crazy.
But so am I.
Peter turns the key in the ignition. “I didn’t think so,” he says. He drives back to his house, and we wait for the night.
CHAPTER 21
Cash
I lay in the bed of my truck, staring up at the bright blue sky. I should go. Drive fast. Buy a new fake passport. Get out of here while I still can. Forget that Remedy exists. Murder anyone who touches a dark-haired woman like her until those feelings are obliterated from my system for good. And never, ever touch another woman, because I’m not going to deal with this shit again.
But none of that feels right.
Instead, I text her to meet me at the parking lot one last time. An urge swells inside of me to tell her how to avoid getting arrested, and I can’t tell her any of that through a text or call. But she doesn’t answer. I think about opening the surveillance app on my phone to see if she has her laptop open, but I don’t. I shouldn’t be helping her anyway. This is pointless.
A visiting snowbird passes the truck, peeking her nose inside the bed, then moves on with her chin held high. The blood is gone, but I still look like another drunk tourist who got locked out of their vacation rental. And no one cares. If I leave now, I’ll be invincible again.
Remedy is smart. Even if she gets arrested, she’ll survive on her own.
I have to go.
I climb into the front of the cab and start the engine. The truck rumbles awake like an old man waking up from a long nap, and that’s what it feels like; I’m finally thinking straight. The truck has more personality than Winstone’s push-to-start cars, but it’s comfortable. Familiar with its undesirable traits. I slap the steering wheel, then sigh. I’ll have to get a new one soon.
