It’s quiet, and I strain to hear who he’s talking to.
“She left what at the Cage?”
The car jiggles as he jumps off, and I hear the gravel crunch beneath his feet. “Interesting. No, I don’t know what could be on there. She was inside for quite a while; she said she was working out her frustration.” He laughs. “Fuck yeah, I have her. We’re just waiting for Rage to get home. I didn’t want to interrupt the festivities. He and Mila deserved a night of celebration.”
Someone must have found the blanket and the flash drive I left at the Cage.
“For sure, man. That sounds like a plan. Round everyone up. We’ll be waiting.”
The trunk pops open, and Carver stares down at me. “Why did you park in the alley at the Cage?”
“I didn’t want anyone to interrupt my session.”
His crazy eyes bounce over my face as his tongue rolls the ring in his lip. “Wolfe said he went over to the Cage looking for Prospect. He was supposed to help him at the Trough, and he never showed up. Said he found everything locked up and quiet, but there was a quilt and a flash drive on the counter. For some reason, he thinks it was left behind by you.”
“What doyouthink?” I ask, sitting up.
He’s amused. “Well, I think the quilt is a gift to Rage. Weird, but okay, whatever. The flash drive,” he leans forward, getting in my face, “I don’t know. Maybe you recorded some of the shit that went down with your brother as proof you were on our side.”
“Do I need proof that I’m on your side?”
He leans away, and I see the guilt on his face. “No.”
Peanut rests his front paw on the back bumper, and even though he didn’t help me out earlier, I begin to give him ear scratches. “You were supposed to bite him on the ass,” I tell the dog.
He fake sneezes at me.
Carver spins slowly in a circle, searching his mind for what could be on that drive.
“Have you ever killed someone?” I ask, keeping my focus on Peanut.
He stops mid-round. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
I lift my eyes to him. “Please don’t lock me back in the trunk. I won’t run. I promise.”
His gaze goes to the house. “Do you want to go in? Have you eaten anything today?” He holds his hand out to me and helps me out of the car.
“I … I don’t know.” The warmth of his hand triggers a release, and suddenly I’m shaking like I did after my last night in Colorado.
“You don’t know if you’ve eaten, or you don’t know if you want to go inside?” He rubs his hands over my arms, mistaking that I’m cold.
My eyes scan the dark countryside.
“You promised,” he says, waving a finger in front of my face.
“I’m … n-not g-going t-to run.”
His brows pull together. “Come on,” he says, guiding me inside with an arm over my shoulders.
We both turn as someone flies into the driveway.
Rage jumps out of his truck and storms over to us. “Why didn’t you tell me you had her?”
Carver steps away from me, and I worry for a brief moment that Rage is going to yell at me. But all he does is wrap his arms around me and pick me up off my feet.
In the space of a breath I let everything go, wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging to him.
“You’re shaking. Why is she shaking?” he asks Carver.