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He turns the truck back on and we’re driving again. In the silence that follows, my traitorous heart hammers away. Love. He said he loves me, and he needs me. It wasn’t a romantic declaration. Rather, it was almost mocking, but still… Love? My palms sweat as I wring my hands together in my lap. I don’t want his love. I don’t even want him to like me or find me remotely interesting. Right? A hot rush of heat creeps up my neck, giving my true feelings away.Someof his attention had been great. My thighs press together as I try, and fail, to suppress some of those greater times. I don’t want to think about those moments right now. I don’t want this new four letter word to alter how I view the reality of my situation either. But then… WhatdoI want?
If you feel anything for them, anything at all worth fighting for, try to communicate what you’re willing to accept in order to have something awesome with them. Pianna’s words return and echo in my head.
How do I feel about Grant and the others? My emotions are so tangled up that I can’t even begin to know how to unravel them. Hate should be the clear answer, yet I can’t find it in me to hate the man sitting beside me.
The drive to Groveton feels like forever. Neither of us say another word to one another, lost in our own thoughts. It’s not until we hit the first light that I break it to ask,
“Can you take me to the hotel that I stayed at after the break in?”
Grant says nothing. He just flips on his turn signal, and we head in that direction. Relieved that he’s not going to fight me on this, I press my forehead against the window. Tomorrow, during work, I need to figure out my living situation. There’s no way I can go back to my apartment. Danny had desecrated my place of solace. That apartment is no longer home. Grant hasn’t offered his apartment, but even if he had, I wouldn’t accept it. I don’t think I can walk through the door to that place ever again. Not after what transpired. And why would I go back to the guys who’ve been holding me hostage? It’s asinine to even dream of it.
We arrive at the hotel fifteen minutes later. He pulls up to the front and cuts off the engine. I reach for my bag, moving slowly so as not to jostle my ribs too much. When it’s in my lap, I reach for the handle.
“Before you go, I want to show you something,” Grant says stiffly.
I turn back around to look at him. He shoves his hand into his front pants pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps the screen and then hands it to me. I hesitate before wrapping my fingers around his device. My gaze drops to the video on pause.
“Play it,” Grant urges softly.
My finger taps the play button. The video starts shaky, but after a moment it steadies and pans around. The view is of the outside, sometime in the middle of the night gauging by the darkness. A house off in the distance has lights on, but it’s so far away that I can’t make out where it is. The camera then pans to Trip standing inside Grant’s truck bed and dragging something large and wrapped in a sheet. It’s not until he jumps down and yanks the object the rest of the way out that I realize what I’m seeing. The sheet is tucked tight around something tall and human shaped. Duct tape is wrapped around the base where ankles would be and around the neck. The blood on the sheet looks black at this time of night.
I gasp.
“Is the hole deep enough yet?” Trip asks.
He looks up and directly at the camera. His expression is hard, determined. He knows he’s being filmed.
“Yeah, let’s drop him in,” Jason says off screen. “Here, let me help.”
As Jason comes into view, he looks purposefully right at the camera and flashes one of his killer smiles.
“I’ll help too,” Grant offers from behind the camera. The video moves. The feed shakes before it stills again. This time, it’s clear the phone is propped up against something. Jason and Trip are already in frame, and soon, Grant joins them. Together, they lift the sheet-covered body and carry it a few feet away before dropping it into a hole in the ground.
“Alright, let’s bury this fucker,” Trip says, almost gleefully as he picks up a shovel off the ground.
“Wait, let me get the lye.” Grant jogs back to the truck. He glances at the phone then hops up into the truck bed. He comes back into view with a large bag in his hand.
“We could’ve just bought some pigs and fed him to them,” Jason says with exasperation, leaning on a shovel that he’s picked up off the ground. Judging by his tone, it’s clear they’ve had this conversation before.
“Where are we supposed to put a body while we go look for pigs for sale?” Grant asks. “No, this is fine. There’s no reason anyone would look here for him. He’ll rot here in an unmarked grave.”
“I guess that’s a fitting end,” Trip replies. “Who has the gun?”
Jason answers quickly, “I packed it with him.”
Grant walks back toward the phone, winks at the camera and then it goes black.
I stare at the screen a moment longer, shock keeping my limbs locked. My heart gallops in my chest as a ringing starts in my ears. That couldn’t have been… No. No, that couldn’t have been who I think it was wrapped up in a sheet. Right?
“I have this video saved on a thumb drive, sitting on your kitchen counter back at your apartment,” Grant says. I look up to find him watching my face intently. “I’m going to delete it off my phone, but I wanted to make sure you saw it. That Danny guy won’t ever bother you again.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. “Grant, why…”
The skin between his brows puckers. “I told you. We take care of the things that are ours.” He gives me a one shoulder shrug. “And technically, this makes us equal. We both have something on each other.”
Horrified. I should be absolutelyhorrified. Yet, the tears that spring to my eyes aren’t from fear. My heart hums and my hands shake when I hand him back his phone.
“I should go.”
