Tone Deaf(43)

Arrow’s eyes narrow. “Yes, I can.”

“You can what?”

“I can walk away. I don’t have to do anything you say, Jace. You might be our lead singer, but you’re sure as hell not our leader. None of us have to listen to you.”

I let out a string of cuss words. Arrow just stares at me, his green eyes evaluating me with eerie calmness. When I finally run out of insults, I pause for breath and glare at him, waiting for whatever retort he’s cooked up.

“But I’ll still help her,” he says.

I’m too shocked to say anything for a long moment. Then I swallow back my surprise. “What?”

“You heard me. I said I’ll help.”

“But you said . . .”

He scoffs. “I said you can’t force me to do anything. And you can’t. But I want to help you, and you want to help Ali, so . . .” He shrugs. “I’ll help her. It seems like the best way to keep you out of trouble, if you’re going to be too stubborn to kick her out.”

I just stand there and struggle to figure out a response, not quite believing I heard him correctly.

“I don’t trust that girl, Jace,” he says. “But I do trust you. You’re right, that is rule number one. And you trust Ali, so . . . yeah. Actually, I guess I do trust her.”

I stumble over my reply a couple times, but finally manage, “Thank you. Seriously, just . . . thanks.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “You’ve always had my back. I’d be a total jerk to not have yours. And you’ve already filled the position of Chief Jerk, so there’s no room in the band for another one.”

I scoff and throw a mock punch at his arm. “Don’t make me regret thanking you.”

His expression turns serious again. “As long as you don’t make me regret not turning Ali in. I hope to god you know what you’re doing, Jace. Keeping around a chick who has an Amber Alert out on her is just asking for trouble.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before moving toward the door, gesturing for me to follow as he says, “Now, come on. Tony wants to meet with us at seven, and if you don’t want him barging in here to find you, we’d better go find him.”





20


ALI


I FLIP THE page of one of Jace’s fitness magazines, even though I have zero clue what I just read. Something about an abdominal workout, I think, although the pictures looked more like a runway model being tortured. Either way, I couldn’t focus on the article, just like I haven’t been able to focus on a single thing in the past hour since I woke up.

It only took me a quick search around the RV to realize Jace wasn’t here, and even though I know he’ll probably be back soon, I wouldn’t blame him if he decided to stay away longer. What was I thinking, falling asleep in his arms? He’s here to help me get to New York, not to act as my teddy bear.

I drop the magazine beside me on the couch and rub my tired eyes. Maybe I should have left when I got the chance yesterday, although the Amber Alert has completely ruined my plans to take a flight to New York. Traveling by plane would have been risky to begin with, but now that I’ve been broadcasted nationally as a missing person, it’d be downright idiotic to walk into an airport. Which leaves me still dependent on Jace for my escape, and which really doesn’t make me feel any better about him avoiding me this morning. It probably means he’s regretting what happened between us last night. Whatever that was. His comfort felt like more than simple pity—a lot more. But with Jace missing this morning, I’m starting to think I completely misinterpreted it.

Something taps my shoulder, and I yelp, looking up to find Killer hovering above me. I glance toward the door, but it’s already closed, and it looks like Killer is the only one who came in.

“Rise and shine, sweetie,” he says. Or at least that’s what I think he says. He’s using what I guess is a sing-song voice, and his lips are moving all weird, making them hard to read. He quits the singing and adds, “The other guys are going to be in here in just a second, and I don’t think you want to meet Jon while you’re in . . . that.” He gestures to my crumpled T-shirt and wrinkles his nose.

“Um, thanks.” I stand up, my arms crossed over my chest, and mutter, “I’m going to go change.” As annoying as Killer’s warning is, I should probably be grateful for it. Facing Jace is going to be awkward enough without me looking like hell.

Killer chuckles and nods. “Good idea.”

I jog to the bathroom and rush inside. My duffle bag is still in the corner, but it looks scrunched, like someone’s been sitting on it. I pick it up and find dog hair covering the top of the bag and some of the clothes inside. Great. Not only has Jace’s pet grim reaper decided to use my belongings as a bed, but now I’m going to smell like a dog all day.

I shake away the thought and fish out a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt. I’m about to pull them on, when I realize I smell like sweat, probably from last night’s nightmare. Ick. Double ick, since I was cuddling with Jace while I stunk like this. I cringe, trying not to dwell on that fact, and start the shower in the corner of the bathroom.

Once I’m out of the shower, I throw my hair up into a loose bun. I didn’t have enough room to bring my own shower products, so now I’m going to smell like dude shampoo and dog hair. I bite back a groan and shrug on my clothes, silently hoping that Jace owns a lint roller.