Page 11 of Outbreak

Wait… “Did you kill Josh, too?”

I haven’t even had time to process all the fucked-up shit that happened before this asshole took me. He doesn't answer me—of fucking course he doesn’t. I know he did. What the fuck is happening? Images of Josh’s bloody eyes and the dead blonde come rushing back to the surface.

“I’m going to be sick,” I say, tossing the bag of gummies on the dash and rolling the window down. I’ve got to get out of this truck. I can’t get my head close enough to the suck in the fresh air.

I can’t breathe.

Bile pushes up the back of my throat as panic grips tightly to my lungs. I’m going to die in this truck with this masked fucker. He’s going to dump my body off the side of a random highway in bum fuck nowhere, and no one is ever going to find me. The buzzards will pick the skin from my bones until nothing is left.

Cold air hits me, and I feel hands on my body, but I can’t pry my eyes open. I’m stuck inside my head, fighting for control over something as simple as air.

“Breathe,” a deep growl demands, penetrating the fog of my panic. “In and out. Just like that. You can breathe. It’s as simple as pulling air into your lungs and pushing it back out.”

His deep cadence settles something within me, clearing the haziness from my senses and bringing me back to the present. Two panic attacks in one night. It’s been so long since I’ve had one; I wasn’t expecting it. They stopped happening a few months after I got settled into school, and I finally stopped looking over my shoulder for my past to catch up to me. If they were coming after me, they would have already shown up.

“You’re okay,” he reassures me, his fingers gently flexing on my throat and his hard body pinning me to the side of the truck.

I know he’s just trying to help, but I don’t understand why. I don’t get it. Why drug me, kidnap me, chase me through the woods, and bring me back when I escape, just to turn around and buy my favorite snacks and soothe me when I panic? The whiplash this motherfucker is giving me is laughable. I feel like I’m stuck in a dream, going around in circles on a never-ending loop ofwhat the fuck is happening right now?

I want to pinch myself, hard enough to bruise because I need to wake the fuck up. This can’t be real. I’m not here, stuck on the side of the road with a kind of nice psychotic kidnapper who feels really good pressed against me and smells entirely too fuckable.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The rest of the world falls away when I crane my neck to look into his shadowed eyes. He’s so tall—more than a foot taller than me. The way he towers over me makes me feel protected. The only other person to make me feel that way—nope. Not going there.

I can’t think ofhimwith the remnants of my panic attack still lingering in the air.

“Who are you?” My question comes out as a breathless whisper, almost carried away by the wind. I don’t expect him to answer me. He hasn’t any other time I ask. But he shocks me when his fingers tighten on my throat, not cutting off my air but letting me feel the darkness that swirls beneath the surface and brings his masked lips to mine and whispers.

“Ghost.”

CHAPTER 11

Ghost

Idon’t know why I answered her question. I am supposed to be punishing her and not giving in to her incessant questions. But something about the way she panicked reminded me of the broken girl she used to be, crawling into my window at night to hide from whatever tormented her. I’ve seen her panic before. I’ve held her through it and let her get all of her worries and fears out of her system in the safety of my arms. Even back then, when I was just a kid who thought he knew everything about the real world but didn’t actually know shit, yet I knew what she needed.

I need to remember that this is the same broken girl I fell in love with when I was only thirteen years old, only for her to turn around and stab me in the back. She ripped my heart right from my chest and stomped on it with her black studded combat boots on my eighteenth birthday. My heart might be cold and dead inside now, but it still beats only for her. It still remembers what it’s like to hold her fragile little body and chase away her nightmares.

And now I’m supposed to be her worst nightmare.

Releasing her delicate little throat, I step back. I need to put some space between us before I turn her around and fuck heragainst my truck on the side of the road. We've only got a few hours before the sun comes up. I was wanting to be much further before we found somewhere to sleep, but I’ve been awake for so long; I need to get a couple of hours at least so I don’t fall asleep behind the wheel.

“Let’s go,” I say, picking her up and putting her back inside the truck. And because I’m feeling nice, I snap her loose handcuff onto the door handle this time; I don’t need her dislocating her shoulder if she goes into another panic attack.

“Where are we going?” She asks quietly once I’m back in the driver seat and pulling back onto the road.

“Right now we’re going to find some place to park away from the road and get some sleep,” I say, giving her more information than I intend to. “No more questions,” I snap, irritated that I let her get under my skin so easily, making me open up to her like she didn’t completely destroy me four years ago.

My tone catches her off guard. She flinches, moving away from me in her seat to hug her door.And now I feel like an asshole. Goddamn it!

I just need to get some sleep and refocus myself. I have a plan—a good one.

But it doesn’t mean seeing her like this doesn’t affect me. I want to rip the throats out of every motherfucker who’s ever hurt her and caused her to fucking flinch at me.

Taking a deep fucking breath and letting it go, for now, I navigate the truck into some relatively clear woods. I park far enough away from the road to not be seen by anyone passing by. I don’t speak again as I get out and start pulling out what I need.

First things first, I change out of these fucking clothes. I’m soaked to the bone in the dead man’s blood, though now it’s dried and crusty. What I really need is a fucking shower. Instead, I use some of our water to scrub as much of it off of my skin as possible, throw on fresh clothes, and grab our bed for the night.

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