I don’t know why I want him to … I just want him at my feet, groveling, pleading for my forgiveness. I don’t think I’d ever give it to him, but it’s sure nice to see him hurt for once.
Honestly, I don’t understand why I care so much, but I do. Apparently, his harsh ass has wriggled its way back into my stone-cold heart and lit it on fire again.
My mind is still trying to deny it, telling me that isn’t true and I must hate him for what he did to my family. But my body can’t stop responding to his. Even now when I think about the way he touched me, I still get goose bumps.
Damn him and his incessant sneaky ways.
Staring at the fire ahead, I think about my options … and of all the ways Brandon has managed to make me squirm.
Fuck.
Remember, Dixie, he killed your fucking brothers.
He never apologized.
Never showed remorse.
None of which will bring them back.
I shake my head and try not to think about my growing feelings for him because they’ll only get in the way. Besides, feelings are for weak pussies as my dad would say. He’s still waiting for a call from me that never came. He’s gonna be pissed as fuck. Can’t wait to deal with that.
I grind my teeth and tell myself to woman the fuck up. No point in sulking about the past.
I start by rubbing my wrists up against a sharp point on the car bumper, hoping it’ll slice through the fabric. It’ll probably take a while, but I have the time and patience. Besides, I don’t think Brandon will be back anytime soon. He seemed pretty unsure of himself … and me for that matter.
Which is why I’m gonna be my own savior.
Fuck men. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone.
After what feels like a couple of hours, I finally manage to break free of the tie around my wrists. With a grin on my face, I rub my wrists and get up. I stretch myself on my wobbly feet and snatch a few things from the car, like the bottle of water and a phone, which I can use as a GPS.
Then I start walking and don’t look back even though Brandon’s probably gonna come back soon. Too bad for him, I’ll be long gone by then.
*
Brandon
For hours, I think about my papa and how his death was shrouded in mystery. There’s only one connection … me. The Zippo that’s still in my pocket to this very day.
If I hadn’t taken it off the shelf, no one would’ve found it and known it came from the shop. My papa would still be alive today, and none of this would’ve happened.
I clear my throat and stare out into the distance. Dixie’s words about how her brothers didn’t have anything to do with my papa’s death resonate in my ears. Is that even possible?
The thought of being wrong kills me because if she’s right … I’m the only one who’s guilty of an unspeakable crime.
But there’s no way to find out if she’s speaking the truth. No one who I trust can vouch for her. Her dad is a sack of shit, and I’m pretty sure he would do anything to save his own ass. Hell, I’m not sure he cares whether she lives or dies. I don’t remember him caring about anything except the drugs.
Which is why I’m so surprised she still cares enough to actually work in that horrible family business of theirs. She should know better than to involve herself in criminal matters.
Then again, it’s just like her to go against the grain. She’s like me, a rebel at heart.
I push out the last smoke on the rocks and throw away the empty packet.
I have to go back because I’m pretty sure the sun’s about to rise, and I still wanted to catch some sleep. That, and I really need to see Dixie to be able to make up my mind. She probably doesn’t wanna talk, but at least I can look her in the eyes. Maybe it’ll help. I’m willing to try. Anything to make this fucking confusion go away.
I don’t do well with uncertainty. But fuck me, I gotta try something.
So with apprehension, I get up and walk back down the hill, backtracking to the car where I left her.
Where she no longer is.
What the fuck?
I rush to the bumper and check the ground, picking up the tie that I used on her wrists. It’s cut through.
Shit.
She’s escaped.
I quickly scan the car to find Matteo’s phone and a bottle of water missing. I check the hidden compartment underneath the driver’s seat and find the second phone. Guess Matteo finally listened to me when I told him to get a backup phone in case he needed to throw his old one out due to tapping.
It’s fully charged and ready to go. Lucky, because I have no fucking clue where Dixie went. Though she couldn’t have gotten far on foot, you never know with a girl as devious and cunning as her.
I should’ve known she’d do this. Of course, she wouldn’t let herself be tied down. Why did I think I’d have some time to myself?
In my rage, I kick the bumper, and scream, “Fuck!”
I chuck the tie to the ground too and stomp on it a couple of times to let my frustration out.
Then I blow out a few breaths and let it sink in.
I fucking lost her, dammit. I didn’t think it’d hit me that hard, but it does. It’s my worst nightmare come true. The girl I’ve wanted to keep in my clutches so desperately has escaped into the wild, and I have no clue how to find her.
There’s only one thing I can think of, and that’s enlisting the help of an old friend.
So I immediately phone his number.
“Hello?”
“Chase, it’s Brandon. I need your help.”
“Buddy!” he says, a little too happy. “Thought I’d never hear from you again.”
“Stop bullshitting me. We met weeks ago.”
“Oh, right,” he says, laughing. “I forgot. It feels like ages ago.”
He’s only saying that because he wants to go on a killing spree again, but I’m not interested right now.
“I’m not calling because of a hit.”
“No?” He sounds surprised. “What do you need my help for then?”
“I had a girl,” I say, “but she escaped.”
He snorts. “Brandon … really?”
“I know, don’t say it.” I sigh. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
“But you told me the same thing.”
I know what I told him. That he shouldn’t be so focused on a single girl … a girl he caught like she was some goddamn prize he won. A girl he kept as a prisoner.