N9ne: The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King, #9)(59)

She looks exactly like she did the night I met her.

“Poe?” I ask, without thinking.

I think I’ve just fucked up royally, but she turns around and jumps at my presence, placing her hand over her heart. She pulls out the ear buds from her ears that are connected to my old MP3 player, peeking out from her pocket.

“You scared me,” she says, taking a deep breath.

Not nearly as much as you scare me.

“What do you think?” she asks, twirling around slowly with her arms open so I can get a look at her.

My throat is dry. My pulse is racing.

It’s hard to come up with the right words that can explain to her all the things I’m thinking and feeling about how she looks right now. Fuckable. Gorgeous. My living breathing wet dream.

MINE.

I clear my throat and decide that simple is best.

“I think it’s…you.”





Chapter Twenty-One





LENNY





When Nine tells me that he’s taking me somewhere tonight, I can’t help but be excited, especially when he says that wherever we’re going is two towns over in Coral Pines where Ricci’s men wouldn’t be looking for me.

After I do some more primping and preening with the makeup that Dre left for me and step out of the RV. Nine is waiting for me at his truck, looking as handsome as ever in his standard, fitted white t-shirt and low-slung jeans. His hair is wet from his recent shower.

He glances up at me and freezes, his jaw open. He flicks his cigarette and comes to stand before me. “There you are,” he says, and I know he’s not talking about my physical presence. He’s taking in my new shorter platinum blonde hair and my off-the-shoulder shirt. I traded my glasses for a pair of contacts I luckily remembered to pack in my toiletries bag.

“You look fucking amazing,” he says, appreciation lacing his deep raspy voice.

“Yep, I’m here,” I reply, feeling suddenly nervous. I press my fingers into my palms but Nine surprises me when he takes my wrist and lifts my hand.

I try to pull my hand back, but he holds it firm, turning my palm up he looks over the crescent shaped scabs and scars. I wait for a question to come asking why I do this to myself or an admonishment of some sort, but what he does surprises me more than harsh words or judgements ever could. He presses a gentle kiss over the scabs then folds my fingers back in, releasing my hand.

I’m shaking now while Nine looks completely unaffected. He doesn’t say a word about what he just did or why.

“So, where exactly are we going?” I ask.

His lips turn up in a crooked grin. “Well, since the two of us have lived very adult lives before we ever had a chance to be kids…”

“Yeah?” I press.

He opens the passenger door of his truck and lifts me up inside. “What do you say we go be kids for a while?”

My heart leaps. Whatever the plan is the answer is yes.

“I say, lead the way.”





The second I set foot on the mushy grass parking lot, I breathe in the scent of fried foods and a sugary sweet scent, as if cotton candy was blowing around in the breeze like sugary dandelions.

Laughter and music floats through the air from within a vast, fenced-in area, which is covered with dozens of black tarps, presumably to prevent onlookers from taking a peek at what’s going on inside.

“A fair?” I ask, my palms sweaty with excitement. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a fair. Mindless fair games and dizzying rides are just the distraction I’ve been looking for that doesn’t come in a bottle.

Although, I did bring my flask, so there’s that.

“Sort of.” He flashes me a knowing grin and out pops that dimple on his chin.

Don’t lose your shit over a stupid fucking dimple. Sure, Nine can be nice, but he’s also dangerous and for all intense and purposes, your kidnapper.

I’m warring with my inner thoughts, so distracted that I don’t see the man beside the ticket booth until he jumps out from behind it, holding a bloody heart in his hands.

I scream and turn to run, only to collide with Nine’s hard chest. I begin to move away, to continue my escape when I feel him pull me back in, his torso shaking with laughter against my cheek. I crane my neck to see what’s so funny and ask why we aren’t running when Nine, looking highly amused, slowly pushes me off of him and turns me around to face my assailant.

Instantly, my face flushes with embarrassment. The man isn’t coming after me, he was never coming after me. He’s in costume and elaborate zombie makeup. The heart in his hands is only a prop. A good one, but still, just plastic and some sort of red liquid made to look like blood.

The man uses his hand not holding the prop to tip his tattered top hat in greeting. “Welcome, living ones. Do you two already have your tickets? If not, you can purchase wristbands from the zombie at the gate, otherwise known as my dear undead wife, Zelda,” he announces, then limps off to scare his next victims, a young couple who shrieks in terror before breaking out in uncontrollable laughter.

“Don’t worry. He’s not a real zombie,” Nine teases in a whisper.

I playfully smack his chest, but when I connect with his shirt, he grabs my hand and slowly lifts it to his lips. My breath catches in my throat. “You don’t have to worry about being bitten by zombies,” he says, grazing my knuckles with his teeth. “It’s me you should be afraid of.” He growls, then nips playfully at my hand, pretending to take a bite.