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“That’s a good question, Bryan,” I say before quickly placing the bag over his head and pulling the drawstrings tight around his neck.
“What the fuck?” he barks, hands going for his throat.
I reach back into the truck and grab a tire iron and hit him in the head. His body slumps immediately, so I’m there to guide him into the bed before I tie the strings around the bag and reach for the fishing line. I secure his wrists and ankles, and with a hard push, I get his body hidden under the truck bed cover.
Before I leave, I remove his car keys, wallet, and phone from his car and lock it up.
Now it’s time to go meet Quin.
8
QUINTIN
I’m surprised when I get to the parking lot and don’t see any sign of Kaspian. I was sure he’d come straight here after overhearing my call. It was what I was hoping for, but the lot is empty. That doesn’t mean he isn’t lurking in the shadows somewhere.
I sit in the truck, waiting for my new friend to arrive. I’m ten minutes early, but he strikes me as someone who would rather be early than late. He thinks I’m taking him home to show off a rare collection of Coca-Cola bottles. I overheard him talking about it to someone else and did a little research on my phone; this way, when I walked up to them I had information to give out. I mentioned having my own collection and we ended up talking for a while about that amongst other things. He didn’t believe that I had a rare, amber-colored bottle from 1906, which I don’t, because who the fuck is gonna hunt down old Coca-Cola bottles? However, I told him I did. I said he’d have to come over to see them all, including another rarity—a vintage green bottle with Coke product still inside from 1959.
Honestly, if you study enough, you can lie your way through almost anything.
Headlights shine from down the road, and I watch as the vehicle makes its way closer. There are hardly any lights out here, the moon doing most of the work in illuminating the area, however as the driver turns into the lot, I realize it’s Kaspian.
He comes to a violent halt in front of me, the truck parked haphazardly in front of mine. When he opens the door, I can see the wild look in his eyes.
I pop open the door and step outside just as he rounds his truck. “What’re you doing?” I ask.
“This is all your fault!” he yells, coming closer as he points his finger at me. “Why couldn’t you just let me do things my way? I was doing this for us. I wanted to bring you a present. I wanted it to be perfect, but you kept talking to him! Am I not good enough?”
My brows furrow. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
He clenches his jaw, rushing to the back of his truck and opening the door to the bed. I slowly make my way to his side and spot a wriggling body with a bag over his head.
“Who is that?”
“The guy you’ve been talking to for who knows how long!” he says, reaching in and yanking the man down, roughly shoving him around until just his head is nearly hanging over the edge.
“Help me! Help me, please! Oh my god,” the man cries, his body writhing as he tries to fight his restraints.
Kaspian looks at me with anger and hurt in his eyes, and then the man pushes himself too far and falls out of the truck and onto our feet.
Just as that happens, another car pulls into the lot, stealing our attention.
“Who’s that?” Kas asks.
I inhale deeply through my nose, wondering what the hell went wrong as I watch Waylen pull his red SUV into a parking spot nearby.
“Who the fuck is this?” I say to Kaspian, nudging the man at our feet as I reach for the tire iron and shove it up my sleeve.
“I…It’s Bryan.”
“Bryan?” I question, bewildered, taking a few steps away.
Bryan screams and there’s no hiding the fact that his body is at our feet when Waylen gets out of his vehicle and gawks in our direction.
Kaspian and I stare at each other, both of us trying to understand what’s going on before we’re forced to come up with a plan.
“Wait here,” I say under my breath before I turn and face Waylen. “Hey,” I greet, raising my hand.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his face blanketed with concern.
