Page 80 of Hitch
He pulls back from our kiss and glares down at me with a distant look in his eyes.
“I should beat your ass for risking your life like that,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “You find any excuse to do that—”
“Thank you,” he says.
My jaw drops. Duane is thanking me?
“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “Not for a million years.”
My eyes fill up with tears again and I shove him in the chest.
“Shut up,” I whisper. “You’re just saying that.”
“I love you more than anything in this world,” he says.
When I look into his blue eyes, I know he means it. We should’ve killed each other so many times, but with us, love wins over logic. Love is worth more than any amount of mushrooms. It’s worth more than a chase through the cornfields. It’s worth more than breaking the walls of a glory hole.
“I love you,” I say. Then I laugh, because for once, it’s simple. We’re here. We’re choosing each other over money. Over drugs. Over everything.
And that gets a smile out of Duane too.
“What do we do now?” I ask. I huff through my nose. “People will notice Todd is gone. He owns a strip club, and who the hell knows how many other places. And with Braden—”
“We’ll take care of it,” Duane says.
Those words stop me. It’s not him, or me, butwethis time, and it makes all the difference. Problems and all, we’re in this together.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
“So, what do we do first?” I ask.
“Take care of the loose ends,” Duane says, gesturing at Todd’s corpse.
It takes a few hours—concealing the body in the barn for now, then cleaning the front yard, making sure Todd’s flesh is cleaned up. But eventually, we finish, and Duane suggests burying the body in the fields with the others, but I think of the Mortician.
“Do you know where he worked?” I ask. Duane nods. Luckily, he still had the Mortician’s belongings, so we take Todd’s body to the cremation chamber, using the Mortician’s keys for access. After that, we head back to the farm.
Morning comes. Soreness wracks my body like I’ve danced a triple shift. I sit in the passenger seat of Duane’s truck while he holds my knee, a reminder that he owns me. A sign that he doesn’t want to let me go.
I put my head on his shoulder. The yellow lines on the road disappear under the truck.
“It wasn’t a Halloween prop, was it?” I ask.
“Not even close,” he says bluntly.
I pretend to glare at him. “Youliedto me.”
“That’s why you’re mad? Not the dead body?” he laughs. Then he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “Here’s your honest answer, Hitch. I’m a killer, and you can’t take the bloodlust out of a killer without murdering him. So if you want me to stop, you know what to do.”
The gravity of his honesty settles on my chest, but it doesn’t scare me anymore. Instead, it comforts me, knowing that Duane always keeps me safe.
And now, I’m okay with the murder, I guess, because I know I’ll always keep him safe too.
“We can’t stay in California,” I say. “Someone will figure it out.”
“Then we’ll sell,” Duane says, keeping his eyes on the road. “Make a pretty penny. Buy your mom a place somewhere real quiet. Find a place nearby.” He shrugs. “You’re the real estate agent. You make it happen.”
