Blood to Dust(49)

“You know, Prescott, if you wanna mend your soul, killing people is not the way to do it.”

“Of course it is.” I kiss his wrapped arm without breaking eye contact. “Because each of these men still hold a part of my soul. I need to take it back, don’t I?”

A hint of a smirk finds Nate’s face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came.

Our heads snap in unison at the deafening sound of shattered wood, and it takes us less than a second to realize that Irvin has managed to kick the door down. Nate shoots up from the table, sidestepping and shielding me behind his back, charging out of the small kitchen and toward the hallway. The gesture doesn’t escape me, but I don’t allow myself dwell on it.

You’re safe, he said before we had sex tonight. Maybe I am.

I follow his steps as he stalks to the hallway, where Irvin already scrambled for his cell phone, which Nate must have tossed across the room before he threw him in the basement. He’s clutching the phone and the discarded Guy Fawkes mask Nate had left on the floor, a dirty Crocs footprint flattened the plastic and disfigured the smiling face. This is the first time I’ve see Irvin without his ski mask, and he’s got the face of an albino eel.

“I’m calling Godfrey.” He averts his eyes from my face and back to Nate’s, his jaw quivering wildly. I’ve never seen someone so manic in my life. “You guys are done, you hear me? Fucking done!”

Forget the packing. We have to run away now.

“Nate,” I say, touching the massive back that shields me from his roommate. “It’s time.”

Nate is still staring at Irv and I wish he’d stop. We haven’t got time to dwell on betrayal.

I slide into my boots, yank the keys from the fruit bowl and grab Nate by the hand.

“Come on. He’s deadweight. Godfrey will never keep him alive after our escape,” I bite, happy to see Irv’s face behind Nate’s shoulder twisting in surprised horror. It’s the truth, and he knows that.

Nate grabs his mask from Irv’s hand and we storm out. He shuts the driver’s door to his Tacoma and punches the wheel three times, honking loudly in the process. I watch him wordlessly, knowing that it’s not only Irvin he is mad at, but also himself. He’s running away from his only chance at normalcy. From a parole officer. From the real world, and from his real identity. He can never undo what he’s doing right now. Me? I haven’t been a part of the real world in such a long time, I barely miss it anymore. It doesn’t miss me, either. Case in point: I was locked in a basement for two weeks, and other than a few crackheads who are probably wondering why I haven’t shown up with their supply, nobody gave a damn.

Other than him.

“Do you want me to drive?” I try not to sound too panicked.

His face is buried between his arms against the steering wheel, and I see him shaking his head.

“Where to?”

“West. We need to stop by my place, get a credit card, go to the ATM and drive to Concord to get a new ride. Your license plate will be easy to detect.”

He starts the car and throws it into drive, heading for the Stop sign at the end of the street and passing through it unblinking, speeding forward as the highway and darkness swallows the truck. I buckle up, treating myself to a glance at his profile. Magnificent in his beauty and peaceful in expression. Whatever got into him—he overrode it.

He is a switcher, I think. I bet that’s exactly how he looked when he killed his father all those years ago.

“You sure heading home is a good idea? One of Godfrey’s wise guys might be waiting with a f*cking Magnum for us.” He leans down, opens the glove compartment and retrieves a pack of gum. He throws a peachy-flavored one into his mouth and chews, offering me the pack with a silent gesture. I put it back in its place without taking one.

“He has no clue where I live. Trust me, if he did, he wouldn’t have targeted me in the middle of Oakland. He would have done it quietly and professionally, plucking me out of my apartment in the middle of the night. My lease is under someone else’s name. I paid her well for it. I don’t leave footprints.”

Nate gives a sharp nod.

“Fake Passports Guy needs to know that we’re on our way,” he reminds me.

“I’ll call him when I get to the apartment. I saved his contact on each and every one of my SIM cards. He owes me big time.” I sit back, trying to let some of the tension roll off my shoulders. I’m out in the open. On a highway. With a beautiful, larger than life man who wants to stick around until we’re both out of the woods. Silk black sky above me, golden sandy hills engulfing the road, I suck a deep breath.

Freedom.

I keep throwing glances over my shoulder, making sure no one is after us. The road is empty. The only witnesses to our deed are the stars, glaring at us like pairs of shimmering eyes, waiting to see how we’ll get out of this mess. Otherwise, it’s just me and him. I like it. What’s scarier is that I could actually get used to this, to being around him.

“Should’ve done it when I first got out,” Nate ponders aloud, sinking his teeth into his lip like I so desperately want to do right now. We’ve spent the last few hours touching and licking and sucking and biting every single piece of flesh on each other’s bodies, and it’s still not enough.

“Everything happened for a reason. You’ll help me finish the Archers and Seb, and I’ll give you money and everything else you need to start fresh. This life has nothing to offer you. You need to start fresh. Under a new name. Under the pretense of someone innocent. You are innocent,” I stretch. “Go to Mexico. Live the life. Get a house by the beach. Start every morning with a margarita. Get a nice tan.”