Page 31 of The Wrong Drive-
“So, your boyfriend is here, Em,” Turner’s graveled voice cuts through the night, echoing around us in a cold haunting tone. “Did you tell him what you did with me tonight? Before you went snooping though my house?”
“What’s he talking about?” Adam looks back at me, confusion in his expression.
“It was nothing,” I lie. “He’s just?—”
“What didyou dowith him?” Adam cuts me off, his voice breaking from a whisper. “Fuck him?”
“No, we just—we just kissed?—”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Adam roars at me. “I fuckingbraved a blizzardfor you, and you were just fine, fucking some guy five seconds after we broke up. I knew you were like this. Iknewit.”
Guilt slams into my chest, and suddenly I feel horrible. “I’m so sorry. This has just been the weirdest?—”
“Shut up,” he seethes. “I know you’re a fucking whore, Em. You probably fucked more guys while we were together.”
“No, I didn’t,” I exasperate, my voice breaking with hurt. “I wouldn’t ever?—”
Gunner’s violent bay cuts me off and he tears through the thicket, barreling toward us.
“Fucker!” Adam shouts, raising his pistol. He goes for the trigger, and I shove his arm as it fires, the bullet burying into the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yells at me as Gunner stands back a few feet, barking at us.
I open my mouth to say something, but the crack of a rifle silences me… And Adam instantly slumps to the ground, a clear hole right through his head. Crimson soaks the snow around him, and I stifle my scream, clamping my hand over my mouth. My vision grows blurry as I sink to my knees.
I’m next. Holy fuck. I’m next.
I hear the crunch of boots in the snow and feel the hot breath of Gunner as he sniffs my head, as if he’s trying to check on me. I cover my face with my hands, unable to look up as I feel the presence of Turner looming above me.
“You didn’t even check him to make sure he was dead,” Turner chuckles wickedly. “Some girlfriend you are, huh?”
My numb hands feel like ice sickles to my hot tears as I wait with bated breath, hearing Turner roll Adam’s body. Mystomach lurches violently as I steal a glance, Adam’s face already blueish, his eyes wide with death. Bile shoots up the back of my throat, and I heave, vomiting into the snow.
“Must be your first dead body,” he says flatly as he uses his boot to roll Adam back face down. “I’ll have to get the tractor to deal with this—and the jeep. What a fucking mess.” His tone is so eerily nonchalant that it feels unreal.
My heart pounds in my ears as I wait, my eyes squeezed shut and hidden in my hands again. Finally, I feel the barrel of the rifle dig into my upper back.
“Get up.”
“Just get it over with,” I scream out, finally getting the nerve to look up at Turner. My eyes meet his, and there’snothingin those gray irises as they peer down at me. I suddenly hate every ounce of empathy I ever gave this man.
“Get. Up.” He presses the barrel into my back with more force.
“No,” I spit fire at him, my fear shifting to anger. “Just fuckingdoit, Turner.”
His neck warmer is pulled up past his nose, but he jerks it down and then kneels to get eye level with me. He drops his rifle in the snow, and I attempt to shy away as his gloved fingers wrap around my jaw. My teeth chatter as he draws my face to his, our noses brushing, eyes locked—andfinally,I see a flicker of something so painful, I have to look away.
“I don’twantto kill you. If I wanted to, I would’ve by now.” His voice is so quiet, I can barely make out his words.
Anger burns in my chest, and I can’t hold back any longer. “Yeah? But from afar, right? Because you wouldn’t have the fuckingballsto look me in the eye when you put a bullet in my head.”
His brows raise, and time seems to freeze for a moment, the two of us locked in that position. I swallow hard as his grip digsinto my skin, and he then tips my head back. His gaze dropping to my lips. For a moment, I think he might kiss me.
But instead, he drops his hand away and rises. Turner picks up his rifle, slings it over his shoulder, and then disappears into the night, leaving me there. I brush my numb fingers across my jaw, still feeling a burning sensation from where his hand was. I eye the face-down dead body of my ex-boyfriend—who had come to rescue me.
I zone out, my eyes blurry with moisture.
And then it hits me.
He has a phone.
