Brutal Obsession (80)

I gag and try to fight him off, but it’s fruitless. His two fingers press down on my tongue, and my stomach contracts. I fall toward the toilet as I vomit. I’m vaguely aware of his hand on my back, collecting my hair, and the other one supporting my torso. I sag to the side and close my eyes.

Plastic touches my lips, and then cool water. I open and swallow, and then it’s gone.

“One more time,” he murmurs.

“No,” I whimper.

“He drugged you.” Greyson pinches my chin, directing my face back around to him. Doesn’t matter that my eyelids are so heavy, I can’t keep them open. “The bastard came in here and gave you a fucking date rape drug.”

He doesn’t need to stick his hand down my throat again—that thought is enough to get me to gag. I cough and choke after, the taste burning my throat. He gives me more water, then scoops me into his arms.

He carries me back to my bed and sets me down on it.

“What—”

“You’re safe. Go to sleep. It’s okay.”

He pulls my jeans off and drags the blankets over my legs. I curl on my side, every part of me aching again. I can’t seem to catch a break.

My thoughts are sluggish. I’m vaguely aware of Greyson moving around my room, and then, sometime later, silence.

I’m left with one question.

Why did he come here in the first place?





35





GREYSON





Knox meets me on the sidewalk, his hood over his head and his hands in his pockets. He raises an eyebrow, but we don’t speak until he’s in my passenger seat and we’re well away from the house.

We go toward the point. The cliff that the hockey team jumped off of months ago. I was just out here with my father, at the restaurant that overlooks the lake.

“You gonna loop me in?” he finally asks.

“Jack Michaels.”

He turns toward me. “What about him?”

“He tried to rape Violet.”

Knox is silent.

I don’t know if that’s what he would’ve actually done. If that’s how far he would’ve gone. But I’m assuming it is—after all, why drug her? Why go to those lengths?

My grip tightens on the wheel. “He’s in the bed.”

Of my truck, I mean.

Knox cranes around, but it’s too dark. We’re on a road without streetlights. Besides, I hogtied Jack and bound him to a few cinder blocks. A tarp covers him. It won’t suffocate him, but he’s probably cold.

February hasn’t lightened up on us. Weather-wise.

Which works in our favor tonight.

“What’s the play?”

I smile. “We’re going to make him regret ever coming to Crown Point.”

He nods slowly. “Sending mixed messages, aren’t you?”

“Because of that press release?” I glance over, then back to the road. “She’s mine. That hasn’t changed. It’s just public perception. A necessary evil, if you ask me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We both denied our involvement with each other,” I say. Not sure why I have to explain it, but there’s a compulsion there. For my friend to understand. “It’s not us. It’s everyone else who will care. My dad, her mom…”

“Because of your past,” Knox guesses.

“Something like that.”

“Lot of smoke-and-mirrors shit going on around here.” He heaves a sigh. “Whatever. I don’t really give a fuck as long as we win our game next week. Which means ensuring Jackie boy here doesn’t get us kicked off the team.”

I nod. “I know.”

“So… I’ll ask again, what’s the play? The actual plan, Devereux. Don’t bullshit me. We going to scare him? We going to blackmail him?”

I lift one shoulder. He’ll get the idea when we get there.

We ride the rest of the way in silence. I don’t get the vibe that Knox is against this. More like he’s anticipating it. He’s as bloodthirsty as me. My only regret is that Violet isn’t here to witness this. But with the drug in her system, she wouldn’t be awake for it.

She wouldn’t remember it either.

She might not even remember me being there.

Which is for the best.

The glow of the restaurant is visible, and then we go down a short decline in the road, and it disappears. This is where most people jump from, since technically cliff jumping is against the rules. It’s a secret thing here in Crown Point, initiation bundled with the thrill of something illegal-adjacent. You’re not going to be arrested, but you will be scolded if they catch you.

To some, that’s the same thing.

We park on a gravel shoulder and hop out. I reach into the bed and tap the tarp. Jack flinches under it, then jerks against his binds. A muffled yell comes out of the lump.

Knox, across from me, raises his eyebrows.

I shrug. I pull the tailgate down and flip the tarp off him. He stares at us, completely wide-eyed, and I grin at him. I climb up beside him and flick my knife out. He squirms, trying to get away from me, but the rope and cinder blocks hold him firm.

I slice through the cord that binds his legs and arms to the concrete, then jump down. Knox and I each grab a leg and haul him out. He falls to the gravel in a heap.