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“Not going to happen. I like my life, and you’re not old enough to drive a rental without the added insurance.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, losing my temper a bit more than I should.
“Yes.” I roll my eyes at the bullshit. I’m twenty-two and more than qualified to drive, although I can’t say the last time I was behind the wheel. Shit, it’s been four years or so, about when I stopped speaking to my parents completely. They cut me out of their lives the day I turned eighteen. It was like I didn’t matter anymore. Since then, I’ve decided that I’d never trust people’s kindness before I learned their motives.
We get back on the road, and I shoot May a message before she worries too much.
Almost there. He’s been on his best behavior, surprisingly. Miss you.
Within twenty seconds, I get a reply: Good. I miss you too. Shank, if need be.
I close the message so Jason can’t see it, and then I start scrolling the news.
Man killed in Northside Chicago apartment. Possible other illicit criminal activity motive.
As I continue to read the article, I hold in my shock and try to relax. I already know who killed our landlord, but why didn’t May tell me about it when I messaged her? It’s obvious that it made the news, so she has to be aware of it.
Is she involved with those guys? The man at the diner she mentioned… could he have seen him hitting on May and lost it? No…that’s crazy. Hell, I knew that handsome goon had hitman written all over him. Those broad shoulders, thick arms, large chest, chiseled jaw, dark eyes, stern presence; he had it all. They think it was a trafficking or prostitution issue? Pictures of women were found in the apartment.
“What’s got you so tense? Huh?” my perverted boss asks, reaching out to touch my thigh while he drives. He’s been too fucking nice to me since this morning. I know he’s only trying to seduce me while we have time alone.
I quickly shove his hand off my leg. “My landlord was killed last night.”
“What? And you didn’t know before you left?” he asks, mouth dropping open.
“No, of course not. They found his body today, so I read the article online just right now.” He pulls off to the side of the road. “What are you doing?”
“Let me see it.” He snatches my phone without my permission and begins to read the article. I’m glad I closed May’s text messages where she reminded me to shank him if he gets out of control because he seems to be slipping now.
He actually appears to have paled. I tilt my head and ask him, “Are you okay?”
“Um…yes.” He tosses my phone back at me, and then he takes out his phone and sends a message to someone and then gets one right back. It’s nuts, but then he starts driving again.
I look at him and see his knuckles are white and flexed tightly against the leather. “Are you sure?”
“I said I am,” he shouts. “Just sit back and relax.” I do, and he pulls back onto the highway. We still have a little while before we arrive at the cabin in the Ozarks. Shit, I think I’m in the car with not just a pervert, but also a fucking monster. Perhaps I should have kept that to myself, although I’m not sure why my landlord’s death should affect him.
I’m quiet and nervous. If I was on edge around him before, it’s only amplified with his psycho behavior. He’s gone from one extreme to the next in a matter of minutes.
“We have two more hours until we reach our cabin. I don’t need you sulking all the way there. Start researching the story we’re working on. I want all the details on the political scandal before anyone else.” He suddenly turns into more like a patronizing boss again.
Mentally, I’m cursing him out with every word I have in my arsenal while giving him a polite smile. After all, I’m a young intern, intent on growing my career and I don’t want to blow it, or so I want him to believe.
“Yes, of course.” It’s not like I wasn’t already doing that earlier, but I will continue if it keeps him off my ass. The sickly-sweet Jason is a much better person than this weirdo. Although, I’m not sure why we’re looking into issues in Missouri. I know we’re a national station, but you’d think it would be something reporters from the region would be on.
I pull out a pad of paper and jot down notes, but since he’s looking over my shoulder every once in a while, I can’t just text May that I need help. Suddenly, the internet cuts out. Shitballs. This isn’t good.
“It looks like it’s spotty. We must be getting close.”
