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He tosses me the keys. “Go pull out the car to the road, right there, where there’s no light. And pop the trunk. Go.” His voice is even like nothing happened.
All the blood drains from my face as I turn toward the car. My legs are wobbly like I might faint – flashes of Joey being shot haunt me, thinking of him raping Leandro’s late wife brings tears to my eyes, and they run straight down my cheeks. Trauma has a way of reimagining itself in the face of a trigger.
Murder is my trigger.
The pit in my stomach feels like it could weigh me right to the ground. I hunch as I get to the car, planting my hand on it to catch my breath.
I’m going to vomit.
I gag, but choke it back. I don’t want any part of me on this crime scene. The kill happened so fast it was almost like that man didn’t exist. Did he look like a mobster with his slick hair and Brooklyn accent? Yes, but how am I to really know if he deserved to die?
I open the door and start the car.
So much for not being an accomplice. Shit.
I pull out slowly, not used to the parameters of this vehicle. When I pull up to where I’m supposed to, I feel the entire car bounce with a thunk of the body being dumped in the trunk. Leandro’s eyes bore down on me. I’m lost in thought. It snaps me out of it, and I climb over to the passenger’s seat.
“Good girl.” He plops into the seat with a smile. “Now there will be food on the table. And you can tell the others that you helped rid the planet of one less monster.”
“I’m sitting next to one,” I cry.
He reaches over to put a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off.
“Just drive, please,” I sob.
He cackles low… How sick is this man I just slept with?
“Something is actually funny?” I say in shock.
“Your view of the world, yes. It’s so idealistic.” He shakes his head. “We step on ants all the time. Hunters shoot deer every day. Those men take innocent life for sport. They are arguably more monstrous than I.”
“You’re sick. He was a person!” I scream, pointing to the trunk as we rumble down the dirt road back toward the highway.
He puts his arm around my headrest and turns to me, diffusing my hysteria with fear. “The Cosa Nostra is a ring of shadow. Rules are followed in a line of grey. When one of them stray, I step in to make sure the ring remains tight.”
My jaw tenses, I’m so uneasy his voice echoes through my ears. It takes me a long time to process the words.
“You’re right, I’m a hunter of sorts, Sia. I make sure the Cosa Nostra doesn’t bleed into the realm of civilians. And when it does, I’ll be there to punish.”
“So fucking noble,” I hiss, still shaken that there’s a dead body in the back. “I’m glad you’re proud of yourself, really.”
He sniffs and faces forward. “Perhaps it was a mistake to drag you into this. I’m in uncharted territory after Joey’s death. Thinking of you as some kind of sign… hm… maybe I was wrong completely.”
My mouth parts, and only a shaky breath comes out.
Did Arnold see what happened? He would’ve had to break away pretty abruptly to notice. No one came out of the hotel doors… God. What would he think of me now?
A hand wraps around my thigh, and I gasp.
“What are you—”
“My adrenaline is on fire from the kill. If only you could channel yours. That fear that plagues you. The hysteria. Make it what I feel.” He leans close to me, hand steady on the wheel despite his eyes drifting from what lays ahead to me, his lips near my neck.
My chest goes weak.
Mixing these emotions is chaotic, and my fear of him outweighs any lingering sensations of being turned on.
His lips touch my neck as we swerve slightly in the three-lane highway, and that dangerous attraction he ignites starts to burn deep within me. The body thumps at our backs and he cackles, facing the road again.
