“Told the world we—did that with each other first. I just said we did it. Not when.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Sebastian. Fuck off.” I shoved past him, leaving the room and then the building altogether. I took the long way back to my trailer, avoiding all the main paths so that he couldn’t follow me.
I couldn’t believe him. This was all another ploy to convince me to give him a real chance. As if the world thinking we were together would cause me to rethink my plans. I couldn’t be with him romantically even if I wanted to. The moment my revenge was complete, I was leaving this town. I would run before I got caught.
Reaching my trailer, I slammed the door behind me. I went to the bed and tossed myself face first onto it, screaming into the pillows once more. I was going to blow my voice, and I didn’t care. I was so fucking mad. I valued my privacy, and Sebastian revealing such an intimate detail about my past felt like I’d been stripped bare in front of the world, and not in the good way. If people knew we’d had sex, they’d want us to be together. The pressure, as it stood, was overwhelming. Now? It’d be downright unbearable.
I can’t let my feelings get involved in this.
Sometime later, the trailer door opened, and he called for me.
“Evie, come on. I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”
I sat up and rolled off the bed. I went to him and poked his hard chest.
“And what exactly did you mean to do? What is your end game here?”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s been a month. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I let you touch me. I laugh at your jokes. I do everything to sell this stupid showmance, but you act like you forgot your promise.”
“Promise?” He frowned, then his expression relaxed as he huffed and fell back, plopping onto my couch. “There was no timeline on that promise. Nor was it ever discussed in detail. I’ve tried, several times, but I’m always shut down.” He put his arms behind his head and crossed his feet at his ankles.
“What do you mean? It’s a pretty cut-and-dry deal. I do this stupid pretend-dating, and you help me kill the men who murdered my mother.” I crossed my arms and stared at him, making himself at home on my couch.
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head and shifted, putting his legs up onto the couch and stretching. “That’s not what I promised. I said I’d get you close to them. Which, while doable, is difficult. I can’t just walk next door and pull somePrincess Brideshit.”
I stared at him until he elaborated.
“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father?”
“Prepare to die,” I finished with a sigh. I swatted his legs down to the floor and sat where they’d just been. “Fuck. I’ve been here a month, and only Thornton is crossed off my list. And he was dead before I got here!” I fell backward, and he sat up.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Killing isn’t easy.” He pinched my chin teasingly.
I swatted him away with an eye roll. He made it sound like I’d accidentally spilled paint, not killed a man. The memory of Glenn, naked and covered in vomit on my carpet, flashed across my mind.
He continued. “Did you have a plan when you got here? Knowing might help me keep good on my promise.”
I rolled my head to look at him. “Plans? I figured I’d stalk them, learn their schedule or something, and meet them in a dark corner and just—take them out.” I pointed my fingers like a handgun and pretended to shoot.
“Have you practiced shooting a gun?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. One time.
“Okay, that’s a good start. You know some of them will also have guns. Unless you’re locked and loaded, they’d easily draw faster.”
“I’m prepared to die for this,” I muttered. “You know that, right?”
“Anthony C. Hopkins, Evie,” he swore and ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t—okay, fuck it. Show me the list.”
“I thought you already knew it.”
“I’m a visual learner. Hold on. I’ll be back.” He leaped up and left my trailer, returning a moment later with a whiteboard and a handful of markers. I cocked my head, and he grinned. “Connor writes my schedule on this every day. Here, let’s plan.” He gave me a marker and set the board on the table.
I stood and went to it, writing down the names of the five men still alive who had murdered my mom.
Jason Dourif
