Page 35 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 3

“Where do you think you’re going?” The hint of boredom in his voice grates me even more, and all I can do is flip him off.

I need a place to go. Somewhere to get away, so I can reel myself in without his taunting. I want to be as cool and detached as he is, so I’m not wearing all this damn emotion for him to smother my face in, but the second the headlights flip behind me, I know I won’t get far.

“Get in the car, Dylan.” He’s driving beside me, one hand on the wheel, the other stroking his chin and I have to look away, because as sexy as he looks, all leaned to the side and chill, he’s still a bastard. A confusing, sadistic bastard who’s probably hoping I break down and cry so he can lick the tears off my face and laugh.

“Go. To. Hell.” I hate myself. Every word that drips from my mouth screams pouty, eighteen-year-old brat—all the things I try desperately not to be. But damn it, the man pissed me off. Again.

The car stops and my heart kicks up to oh shit. I up my pace, trying not to run across the slick snow and risk falling, but the moment the door slams shut, I know I’m screwed.

He loves this. This cat and mouse game between us. I dare say it’s why he behaves the way he does, and even though I’m smart enough to read between his lines, I’m tired of the games with him. The hot and cold and seclusion. I’m tired of being the only one who doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

I didn’t betray him, and that I have to keep proving that fact irritates the shit out of me.

At the crunch of his boots behind me, I up my pace to a jog and in the next breath, I face-plant the snow. My body is yanked backward and he flips me onto my back as if I’m nothing but a ragdoll.

On instinct, I kick out at him, but he ignores my pathetic fight and climbs atop of me, straddling my body, pinning my arms into the cold snow.

“If you don’t get off of me,” I growl, squirming in his grasp, “I’m going to scream.”

“Scream.” He’s taunting me, I can see it in his eyes that don’t so much as flinch with my fight. “Scream loud. Scream until your voice gives out. Scream until the whole city can hear you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re nothing but a sadist. A torture-loving bastard!”

“I haven’t begun to torture you, sweetheart. But after this little stunt, you’re gonna wish you’d have just gotten into that fucking car.”

“I hate you. I really truly hate you.”

“No you don’t. You wish you hated me. Just like I wish I hated you.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and for the first time tonight, his furious eyes soften.

“I’m not listening to this bullshit. I’m not letting you pull me in again so you can push me away. So take your charming little gestures and your lying words and shove them straight up your ass. From now on, I’ll treat this exactly as you want. I’ll be your whore and you can give me the money, as you said. But I’m not giving you anymore than that. I can be just as cold as you, Ripley.” The sting that hits the rim of my eyes pisses me off, and I blink to hold back tears, because Lord knows, that would ruin everything. I’m not crying in front of this man. I refuse to give him my tears.

A flicker of something crosses his face and my messed up, emotional self wants to interpret it as hurt. In reality, it’s probably anger because that’s all that the man seems to feel. As if every other emotion has been carved out of him, and I think back to the sadness of his cold mattress on the floor. Naked. Tormented.

Damn it, stop, Dylan. My mind keeps searching for excuses to dismiss his assholeyness. There are no good excuses for what he’s doing to my head.

“I want you back in that car.”

“Not until you tell me. Truthfully. Fuck the money. Do you want me to stay?”

He scowls, and I brace myself for whatever wrath is burning behind his eyes. “I don’t know,” is all he says.

It’s not an answer really, and certainly not the one I’m looking for. But it’s as honest as I’m going to get from him. So when he releases my arms and pushes off of me to stand, I take his hand and let him pull me up to follow him back to the car.

14

Ripley

Veering the car onto the expressway, I glance over at Dylan, who hasn’t said a word since we left Gina’s.

“Why does she stay here?” Her voice is a surprise, and I turn to see her head resting against the door of the car. “Emily. If she’s in danger, why doesn’t she get away?”

“She is away. I’m the one who puts her in danger.”

“You stay for her. Do you live somewhere else?”

“Many places.” I keep my answers short, still unsure of how to approach Dylan. “Everywhere is temporary for me.”

“You lied, Ripley. You said you trust no one. But you trust Emily, don’t you?”