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I took the can from him, gently, so I didn’t spill it. “And how is it warm?” I questioned, holding it to my cheek.
“It’s a secret.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “This isn’t full of strict-nine is it?”
“Princess if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“I was half-joking, but thanks for that bit of info,” I deadpanned.
He grinned at me then, genuinely, and it was one of the most beautiful damn things I’d ever seen—the kind of smile that invited the devil in. And his teeth were perfect rows of white.
My fingers tightened around the can, and I cleared my throat, quickly finding something else to look at as I brought it to my lips. The liquid was strong, dark, and pure bliss. “Mmm,” I shut my eyes and hummed my appreciation as it traveled down my throat.
“Sooo, we should go,” Nyx reiterated.
I opened my eyes and nodded, heading for the doors, missing the look on Zane’s face.
“Here.” He took the gear bag from Nyx without being asked to and led the way. As soon as we stepped outside, I knew what Nyx had meant. Something did feel off.
I climbed into the XL, this time behind the driver’s seat where Annie was already sat.
Nyx took the center aisle, and Zane got in the passenger seat, and then we were pulling off.
The rain continued to fall, setting a gloomy precedent for the day.
I tapped my fingers against the tin-can, slowly rotating it in my hands. My mind was all over the place this morning—I didn’t feel like myself.
Looking up, I caught Zane’s eye in the rearview and immediately got lost in their intensity. The hatred was absent. I knew it could return as easily as he could blink, but right then he was looking at me like I imagined all women wanted to be looked at by a man.
I had no right to look back in those eyes and feel remotely the way I did.
The distortion suddenly cleared up on the radio, interrupting our connection. I watched Zane reach a handout and turn it up to twenty-five decibels so we could all hear the broadcast coming on.
“What’s up ya’ll its DJ Dystopian bringing you all the hottest news about this beautiful hell of a wasteland known as the Badlands.
Weather today is rain and more rain until, hell I don’t fucking know I’m no meteorologist.
“You know what I am? I’m the best damn radio host around. I deliver the straight up honest truth no matter how crazy it is.”
“Turn it up a bit more,” Ace said from the last row of seats.
Zane obliged, turning the dial six higher.
“Speaking of crazy shit. The woman who lives next door got dragged away by a man wearing a deer mask the other night. If you don’t know who would do such thing, then you must be new around here, and I’m just the person to fill you in so listen close cuz this could save your sorry asses one day soon.
The Badlands is home to the craziest sonsofbitches you’re ever gonna meet. This place is crawling with the worst gangs in the whole goddamn country.
“Let’s start at the bottom with the only ones that matter.
“We got the Jackals, the Stags—the deer headed psychos, Lazarus—this one’s new but I hear its mean as hell. And then we got those fanatic religious A.R.C fuckers.
“Last but most certainly not least We got the big baddies at the top, the Savages—and I hear they’re into some real deal devil shit. Claims that Satan himself walks amongst them, and folks, I’m liable to believe it.
Right there with em is the Venom. You might have thought you heard me wrong just now, but I’m telling you the truth. Those snaked eyed motherfuckers are growing by the day. Could there be an alliance in the future? Keep tuning in, and you’ll be the first to find out.
I got some old-school hits coming at ya in just a second before I go remember the rules.
“Keep your eyes and ears open, guns loaded, and knives sharpened because in the Badlands it’s kill or be killed and if you’re not a killer then your ass better run like hell.”
