Page 119 of That Girl is Trouble

“But you’re not a priest.”

“No, Kitty, definitely not.” He closes his eyes for a moment, as if saying a prayer. When he opens them again, he says, “I knew Jess very well. Regardless of where he ended up, he wouldn’t have wanted you to mourn him forever. Guess I’m trying to say that it’s okay to grieve him. You might have hurt in you when it comes to him until the day you die, but that doesn’t mean you should feel guilty about moving on, about living your life.”

Jess was all about living. Not for yesterday or tomorrow, but for right now. He was like Axe in that way. All the Sinners, really. No fucking fear, no apologies, no dwelling on shit they can’t change. They live how they want to live. Day by day. One foot in front of the other.

He and I hurt each other, over and over. He’s gone, and I still feel that hurt. The regret for not being better. The guilt over being happier with someone else. Maybe I’ll always feel it, but maybe it’s okay to stop letting it cripple me.

I bump my shoulder against Preacher’s and smile. “That was good, Preach.”

He grins. “Yeah? Profound enough for you? Priestly?”

“Definitely.” I shoot him a half smile. “Except I think you and I both know Jesse would love it a little. Me spending the rest of my days pining for him at the foot of his grave.”

Preacher chuckles. “Yeah, the little bastard would have fucking loved that.”

My pocket vibrates, and I pull out my phone, my heart in my throat. Relief fills my chest when Axe’s name flashes across the screen. “Hey,” I say, giving Preacher my back. “Where are you?”

“Hello, Katherine.”

I still, my blood turning to ice. The sound of the voice on the other end of the line makes the hairs at the back of my neck jump up. Vic Rossi.

“How are you calling from this number?”

“I had to use his thumb to unlock his phone. Facial ID just wasn’t working. Guess he doesn’t quite look like himself right now.”

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice cracking. I glance at Preacher, whose brow is furrowed as he watches me.

“I’m going to send you an address. Be there in thirty minutes, or your boyfriend dies.”

“Don’t you dare hurt him!”

“We need to work on those listening skills of yours. Here, let me demonstrate what happens when you disobey me.”

There’s a pause, and then a sort of cracking noise. A pained grunt. Another crack, a muffled yell. My stomach roils and my imagination runs away with itself. Axe. On the floor. Blood. Too much of it for him to be okay.

Rossi laughs. “How many fingers do I need to break before you understand?”

“I understand,” I tell him, a sob slipping from my mouth. “Thirty minutes.”

“Good. And Katherine?” he says, a note of amusement in his tone. “I see another soul with you, and by the time you get to him, there will be nothing left. Thirty minutes. Clock’s ticking.”

32

Preacher’s sigh lights the fuse on my already short temper. “Why are you always doing that?” I snap.

“Because you exasperate me. Every single one of you,” he mutters. He checks the clip in his gun, counting his bullets, then snaps it back into place. “Graves said to wait.”

“Rossi said thirty minutes, and it’s been twenty-five.” I pull to the shoulder and slow the truck to a stop. “Get out. And give me that,” I say, nodding at his gun.

He scoffs. “It’s half a click at least through the bush from here. You’ll both be dead by the time I make it to you. And I give you this gun, they’ll just take it when they search you.”

“I’m not going to sit here and wait for them to kill him. He was specific, Preach. He said I had to come alone. How is waiting for backup going to help?”

“Graves said—”

“I know what he fucking said!” I yell as a fresh wave of panic thrashes against my chest. “I’m going. You wanna stop me, then you’re going to have to literally hold me down and fight me.”

Preacher glances out the back window at a handful of bungee cords lying loose in the box. He’s silent a moment, as if seriously considering tying me up. Then another fucking sigh slides from his mouth. I’m going to murder him.

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