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“Don’t make me fucking stab you, Rook. Let me go.”
She extricated herself from him, her glare sharper than her words.
He lifted a hand in mock surrender, digging into his right pocket for his blade to hold it out to her. “Don’t make promises you aren’t going to keep.”
She rolled her eyes at him and sank back into her seat, simmering in her frustration with arms crossed over her chest.
“I bet you he wears the jacket by Christmas,” I said, turning on the radio as I pulled out onto the road, waiting for Axel and the others to pull up behind us before leaving.
“Or he’ll use it for kindling in tonight’s bonfire,” Rook said, and I sent him a look in the rearview.
What the fuck, man?
He shrugged. “What? It’s the truth.”
