“You’ll what?” I taunt.
“Don’t make me do it, Dixie,” he says through gritted teeth, trying to glare at me and the road at the same time.
“Do it. I don’t care,” I say in a bold moment of courage.
“You wanna die?” he blares, unlocking the safety. “Sit. Down.”
My throat clamps shut. He could pull the trigger any time, and I’d be gone. It’d be a quick death, but now that I’m so close, do I really wanna pull the plug so easily?
I have more to offer to this world, and I’m not done with making the sinners pay yet.
So I lower my feet and sit down properly again.
“Good girl,” he says.
“Now behave and maybe I’ll let you out of this car once we get to our destination.”
He makes it sound like I’m a dog on a leash.
“Fuck you,” I reply.
He’ll find out soon enough just how bad I can get.
Chapter Twelve
Brandon
I shake my head, listening to all the bile she’s spewing. “Still have the same potty mouth I remember,” I say, and a lopsided grin appears on my face. “You could’ve used that mouth for better things.”
And that body too, from the looks of it.
Fuck me, I can’t stop looking at her. It’s been such a long time, but I don’t remember her ever looking this mature, that’s for sure. She’s obviously trying to use it to her advantage by constantly pressing her tits together to distract me while I’m driving, but I won’t fall for her tricks. It happened once, and it won’t happen again. Ever.
When we finally get to the remote motel I picked, I jump out of the vehicle and open her door. With my gun, I nudge her out. “C’mon.”
“You’re taking me to a motel?” she says, raising a brow. “Classy. Just like I remember you being.” Her sarcastic tone makes me want to lash out at her.
But that’s her plan. She wants to make me angry and get me to go crazy so I do something stupid and let her escape. It’s not gonna happen.
As I push my gun against her back, I say, “Walk.”
When she puts her hands up, I lower them and hold them behind her back. “And don’t make a scene,” I whisper.
“Fine. Whatever you say, Mr. Locklear.”
“That’s better,” I murmur. “Should’ve learned some manners sooner.”
She doesn’t respond, but the slight tug on her lips tells me she’s agitated. Good. I hope she feels the same irritation I do.
I quickly book a room and usher her inside, locking the doors and closing the curtains.
“Sit,” I tell her, pointing at the bed with my gun.
“And then what?” she says, crossing her arms.
I peek out the windows, checking to see if anyone’s coming. I need to make sure no one followed us. Otherwise, things could get intense quickly. You don’t wanna mess with my uncle’s men, especially when you have something they want.
My uncle’s probably desperate for vengeance by now, which is why I can’t go back to him. At least … not until Dixie’s buried six feet deep.
“You don’t even have a plan, do you?” she asks with a gleeful voice, almost as if she’s laughing at me.
But I’m not the one with a gun pointed at me. She is.
I turn to face her with the most serious face I can muster right now because I’m close to killing her off and ending this charade. At least then she’ll shut up for a second.
“You should be thankful,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“Thankful?” she repeats, almost choking on her laughter. “Why? For threatening me with a gun?”
“For saving your ass,” I growl back.
Now she bursts out into laughter. Visibly. Shaking. Like she can’t catch her breath.
I make a fist with my hands. Fuck her and her ungrateful ass.
“Sorry, I just can’t,” she says, wiping away a tear. “It’s just too funny.”
I march toward her, grab her by the hair, and yank her head back. “If it wasn’t for me, my uncle would be ripping out your toenails right about now,” I hiss.
It’s the truth. He’d probably skin her alive too. She doesn’t know him like I do. He’s a vicious man when he’s angry.
“You’d better be grateful,” I add, marching around the room, thinking of what I’m going to do now.
“For what? For taking me to some stanky, nasty-ass motel on some filthy road?” she says.
I stop in my tracks. “You wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for me.”
“Am I really, though?” She angles her head, the look on her face instantly transformed from punchable to dead serious. “Because you’re still holding a gun to my face. You’re the one keeping me captive.”
When I open my mouth, I have nothing to say, so I shut it again and grind my teeth instead. It takes me a few seconds to form a reply.
“Being with me is the better option here, trust me.”
“Not in my book,” she says, averting her eyes.
“You really wanna die that badly?” I say, leaning against the dresser in front of the bed.
“Maybe.” She gazes up at me from underneath her lashes with those same eyes. Those eyes that once looked at me in awe. The same eyes that once made me want to go to my knees and worship the very ground she walked on. Those same eyes that made me swear I’d never go back to that place where everything went to shit.
“Or maybe I don’t wanna be stuck here with you.”
That hurt. Physically. I felt it in my fucking bones.
Fuck her. She’s only trying to get under my skin. That’s her goddamn plan—to manipulate me into giving her a swift end—but I won’t be that merciful. Not after what she did. She deserves everything coming to her and more.
It’ll be me who gives her all the pain in the world.
I just haven’t decided yet on when, where, and more importantly … how.
First, I need a cig. I fish in my pockets and take one out, lighting it in my mouth. She continues to stare at me as though I have something on my face. Or maybe she’s trying to make me disappear. At this point, I honestly don’t know what she wants anymore. She’s still as reckless as I remember.
“You can’t smoke in here,” she says, her brows drawing together.
I take a drag and blow out the smoke before replying. “Says who?”