“That was pretty gross,” Paige agrees.
“I’d be sure to bury your remains where no animal would ever find them,” Bishop says.
Paige gasps, which makes Bishop burst into laughter.
“Kidding! Now can we get on with this?” He places a hand over his heart. “I promise not to kill you.”
“Why should I bother?” I ask. “Why not just drive you right to the police station and tell them I have the guy who broke into Mom’s shop?”
“This again? You don’t think I did that, or you would’ve called the cops ages ago. Now let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
“Ind!”
My spine straightens. I look over the hood of the car and see Devon pulling his shirt over his head as he stumbles down Jarrod’s front steps.
“Ind, wait, I can explain.”
“Let me guess,” Bishop says. “You were just trying to jump over her and couldn’t quite make it.” He laughs, and Paige slaps him so hard he grabs at his arm.
I grapple for the door handle and slip into the front seat, gunning the engine. Bishop and Paige scramble to get inside the car before I peel away. Devon calls my name, but I don’t stop. I don’t even look in the rearview mirror.
12
Somewhere between Wilshire and Franklin, I notice that the faster the wind slaps hair across my face and the more blurred the palm trees bordering the road become, the easier it is to block thoughts of Devon and Bianca from my mind. The speedometer needle vibrates around eighty miles per hour. I’d go faster if my throwback of a car would allow it.
“Mind slowing down?” Paige asks from the backseat. “I think I’m going to vomit.” One glance in the rearview mirror tells me she isn’t exaggerating: her pale skin has turned a sickly shade of green, and she’s clutching the Oh Shit handle like a life preserver. Bishop, on the other hand, is slouching in his seat, tapping out some secret tune no one else can hear on his thighs.
“It’s all right.” He looks out the window. “She’s just pulling a Bella.”
“A what?”
“A Bella. You know—guy does you wrong, so you punish him by practically killing yourself.”
“What?” I bark a laugh. “That is so not what I’m doing.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” He starts up his stupid drumming again. I’m beginning to feel homicidal.
But even though he’s majorly wrong, I lay off the gas a bit. For Paige’s sake.
Soon, I’m navigating the Sunfire along the narrow, two-lane street that winds up around the Hollywood Hills. On the left are the stupid-big homes of the stupid-rich-and-famous, interspersed with a bunch of eroded rock and grass and trees. And on the right is the guardrail that stops motorists from careering to their fiery deaths, all overlooking a beautiful view of Los Angeles.
“Okay, we’re here.” I slide the car into park in front of the gate at the end of Deronda. “Start talking.”
“Hold on, now.” Bishop climbs out of the car.
“This is as close as we can get,” I call out the open window. “Service road. Hello?”
He takes off up the hill and disappears into the dark.
It would be dumb to get out of the car. Worse than dumb: idiotic. But I’ve come this far already, and I can’t imagine the grocery list of bad decisions I’ve made to this point being for nothing. I turn off the car and unfasten my seat belt.
“You’re really going out there?” Paige asks, but she’s unfastening her seat belt too.
“Well, I’m not just going to let him get away, am I?”
“Nooo,” she says, throwing as much sarcasm into one word as humanly possible, “you definitely want to run toward the ax murderer.”
I ignore her and jog after Bishop, brush needles clawing at my ankles as I struggle to find my footing on the loose gravel.
“Bishop!” I hiss into the dark. “It’s against the law to hike to the sign.” Like I’d hike to it right now even if it weren’t illegal. Without the lights of the city, we’re boxed in by an eerie darkness that would make a field mouse feel claustrophobic. Plus, there are mountain lions, and rattlesnakes, and rough brush, and a zillion other reasons to stay in the car. And did I mention it’s illegal?
“Hello!” Paige calls. “Security cameras, motion sensors, razor-wire fence?” She sighs. “This is stupid, Ind. I’m going back to the car.”
“Over here.”
I can’t tell where Bishop’s voice came from. It sounded like it was above me, but that’s obviously impossible. I squint into the dark and scan the silhouettes of trees and bushes that jut out from the rocks.
“Here,” Bishop says.
I startle. Because, yes, his voice definitely came from above me. Holding my breath, I look up, and—holy freaking crap—Bishop is ten feet in the air, his moonlit back floating against the dark night sky. I scream and scrabble backward, bumping into Paige.