Page 2 of Wicked Dove
His cropped brown hair is almost to the scalp, the trademark look for a man who has served time. Even five years later, he still refuses to let it grow. It suits him. The edgy vibe, sharp jawline, and piercing blue eyes are all the features that the ultimate bad boy requires. He’s got the formula locked down.
In another life, I would love him. In another life, he would love me. But in this life, we’re not meant to be. After one drunken attempt at a kiss three years ago, we’ve never gone there again. There are many reasons that explain why we’re not meant to be together, and as much as I’m the one who added most of them, I silently hate them too.
More than anything, he’s my constant. Even though my life is unstable, no matter what I do, he offers comfort amidst the chaos. I don’t want to ruin this. Not for anything. There’s the added fact that he’s seventeen years my senior, but that only ever seems to be a problem for him.
No matter what, one day I’m going to get out of here for good. I just have to convince him to come with me—which I still haven’t done.
He raises an eyebrow at me, reminding me that he spoke, and I quickly clear my throat as I sit up straighter in my seat.
“A job?” I ask, familiar with the kinds of jobs he usually has, but there’s something extra in his eyes, a sparkle I can’t quite identify.
He nips at his bottom lip as he nods. “Yup. A big payer, too,” he states, making my heartbeat flutter.
“How big?” I tuck my left leg under me as I turn slightly, giving him my full attention.
“Big.” He smirks, knowing exactly how much he’s getting under my skin.
Pursing my lips, I start to shift again when his palm lands on my leg, holding me in place. My gaze burns into where he’s touching me. I don’t like hands on me. It makes my teeth grind together, but I breathe through the rush of defensiveness that simmers beneath the surface.
I lift my gaze to his, watching him watch me as he clears his throat. Without a word, he slowly pulls back his hand and places it on the steering wheel. “Fifty.”
“Fifty?” I repeat, my blood still a little spiked as I try to work past it.
“Grand,” he adds, and my jaw falls slack.
“Fifty thousand?” I clarify, and he nods, a manic smile on his face as I gape at him in disbelief.
“How? When? What the hell does that involve?” My questions come out in rapid succession, making him snicker.
His attention shifts back to the road as he merges onto the highway. “Tonight, and because I’m good at this. Don’t worry about what it involves, it’s going to be worth it, right? Fifty fucking grand, Elodie.”
“Fifty for you or to split?” I press, remembering a few times when my cut was worse than zero because I somehow ended up paying for the damn gas.
The pointed look he gives me fills me with hope. “Right down the middle.”
I feel the color drain from my face. Right down the middle would be twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s the kind of money that changes your life. That’s get-the-hell-out-of-Dodge and never have to deal with your worthless parents again kind of money. That is the pinnacle of no longer holding yourself back type of money.
“Walker,” I breathe, and he hums, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“It’s time, Elodie.”
“Time for what?” It takes everything to keep my voice steady, but I’m a little nervous about what he means.
“It’s time we got the hell out of here.”
“For real?” He nods, but it’s not enough. “You’re ready?”
“I think I’ve been ready for a while. I’m done here; you’re past done here. I had a life before this and I’m ready to reclaim it,” he states, shooting my eyebrows up to my hairline as I blink at him.
He never talks about his past. Not ever.
“That’s good, Walker,” I murmur with a nod, certain I’m turning into one of those needy girls who wants him to clarify exactly what he means, but I don’t want to push. This is the first time he’s been willing to talk about getting out of this town. I just have to hope he means together.
Silence falls over the car as he exits at the next offramp and pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. He turns off the car and the headlights fade away shortly after, leaving us sitting silently as the darkness settles around us.
With every second that passes, I can’t help but feel the weight of my life in this moment.
If this goes through, I can leave. The money is… eye-opening. I could be on the next bus out of here. I could be in the next state over by morning if Walker is driving. Either way, I could be more than the high school dropout just getting by with no prospects, no desire, no life.
