Page 93 of The Silent Note

A large hand wraps around my elbow and I’m suddenly jerked to a stop. I whirl around and look up at Zane.

“Are you okay?” he demands. “Your eyes are red. Did you cry?”

I freeze, every muscle pulling taut. But it’s not out of shock or anger or even distress. It’s the stillness of a hunting dog smelling blood.

Suddenly, I don’t want to cry anymore.

“Grey…”Sloane’s tone is a warning.

“Talk. Now,” Zane growls. “Whoever he is, he’s dead.” His heated blue eyes are on me, simmering with a concern that tells me he’s seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder and carting me away if I answer incorrectly.

My eyes slide over him. Redwood Prep jacket thrown carelessly over broad shoulders. Inked hand up in a black sling. Black T-shirt clinging to a lean, muscular frame. Black pants shrouding legs that are impossibly long.

He stands for everything I shouldn’t want. Everything my body craves.

Wrong. Right.

Light. Darkness.

Screw it.

“Do you have a car?” I ask tightly.

Black eyebrows dance high on his forehead. Concern shifts to confusion. A slight twist of his mouth hints at unease. Zane might act easy-going, but he hates being out of control just as much as his brothers and father.

“Grey,”Sloane’s voice is more urgent,“whatever you’re thinking right now. Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Do you?” I insist.

Zane tilts his chin up. “I’ve got my bike.”

I wrench his arm off and start to stride away.

His footsteps thump.

A second later, he’s in front of me. “I know the passcode to get into Dutch’s car.”

Our eyes meet and hold.

A thick tension is eating away at the oxygen around us, turning dangerous quick. This attraction has been a steady drip in the background of my life, spilling like gasoline fluid just waiting for a match.

Burn, baby, burn.

“Let’s go,” I order.

The sky is far too bright when I get outside. I wish it would rain. Rain would be good. Soak me to my bones. Wash away my thoughts. Hide the redness of my eyes. Hide the tears.

Zane leads me to Dutch’s car. He flashes me another worried look over the hood when I wait for him to tap the code into the keypad right beside the front door.

Click.

It’s open.

My heart races. I get into the backseat.

He doesn’t ask why.

I’m glad. I don’t think I can talk right now. I don’t have words. None that make sense.

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