Page 93 of Fire Fight
ME
I hate you.
HOTSHOT
C’mon, little phoenix. You don’t mean that.
ME
Okay fair. But I do hate your brother. I don’t need a babysitter, Crew.
HOTSHOT
I know you’re miserable, and I’m sorry, but please do this for me. If it makes you feel better, he’s a hell of a cook—and maybe I’ll make it up to you later.
Thatgot my attention.
ME
I’m listening…
HOTSHOT
We’ll discuss when I’m home
ME
You’re a menace.
HOTSHOT
See you in the morning
I cursed and dropped my phone face down on the counter.
Trey chuckled, his back still to me. “I take it that went well.”
“I’m stuck with you until tomorrow.”
“I promise I’m a good time when you get to know me.”
Truthfully, I didn’t doubt that, but Trey wasn’t the kind of good time I was interested in. It did, however, make a certain amount of sense to get to know him platonically if I was going to be sticking around and becoming a permanent fixture in Crew’s life.
But that was putting the cart before the horse. I hadn’t even talked to Crew about the epiphany I had on my walk. I couldn’t get ahead of myself.
Trey moved around the kitchen like he knew the layout as well as he knew that of his own home, and I had to guess he spent a significant amount of time here. Despite the way they antagonized each other, the brothers were obviously close.
My eyes practically glazed over as I stared at him, my mind a million miles away.
To me, having a vehicle had always equated independence. As long as I had wheels and enough money for gas, I could go wherever I wanted, and no one could stop me. I’d gotten my license only a few weeks before Lola died, and I used to drive around in her car, blasting the mixed CDs she kept stowed neatly in a case in the center console, crying and missing her.
Now, I was effectively trapped here like a princess in a tower, and Ihatedit. Hated Trey for invading our space—yes,our, and no, I wasn’t going to examine that word choice too closely. Hatedthis killer for putting my life in danger and dragging Crew and his family into it.
Most of all, I hated myself. For not being stronger. For not being able to find this guy already. For being taken down so easily outside the bar that night, and for giving this fucker the chance to continue terrorizing this wonderful town and its residents because I couldn’t remember a goddamn thing about the day I’d been held captive.
“You’re thinking awfully hard over there,” Trey said without looking at me as he plated the pasta dish, then withdrew a bottle of wine from the pantry.
“Want a glass?” he asked.
