Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(35)

“Do you fancy me rich?”

“Asks the man who gave me a million-dollar necklace. You don’t spend your money on anything but candy. I think you’ve got more than enough squirreled away.”

He reached in the back and tossed the folded-up newspaper in my lap. “Perhaps you should consider buying a new car instead of used if you’re so eager to spend your paycheck.”

I slid my fingers over his thigh until my hand brushed against his flagpole, its position not quite at half-staff. His entire body tensed.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little wear and tear. Maybe I should learn how to drive a stick. Will you teach me?” I squeezed his thigh, eliciting such a strong reaction that I saw the vein on his neck pulsing. “I need someone to show me how to handle it. I never learned because I jerk it hard and grip tight until the entire car lurches to a stop.”

His eyes slid over to mine. “You’re a sly little fox, you are,” he growled sexily.

Tempted to escalate this little game, I instead withdrew my hand and smiled coyly as he started up the engine. I swear… whenever that man looked at me, it was as if every hair on my body received tiny shocks of electricity.

“You’re a bad influence, Mr. Poe.”

He revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Thank the heavenly angels I was born with a mountain of willpower.”

I snapped open the paper to the classifieds. “Which will crumble at your feet once you see what I look like in a pair of see-through lace panties.” I turned the page, using the streetlights and my Vampire eyes to read the ads. “Hey, this one sounds perfect. It’s a 1974 Ford pickup. Rebuilt with exterior… Wait a second.”

“You need something fast and reliable. Not a piece of tinfoil. You pick cars like you do men.”

I blinked at the ad. “This… this is my father’s number.” I scanned the short ad just to make sure and then shifted my gaze to the snowy road ahead. “Why is he selling his truck?”

Christian remained quiet, and I glared at him.

“Do you know something about this?”

“Now don’t be giving me that look. You said yourself that he didn’t spend enough money on himself.”

I didn’t like the idea of Vampire scrubbing, but it had been a necessary evil in order to see my father. Now my worst fears had come true. Christian hadn’t just erased my father’s memory of our meeting; he’d implanted a false desire without my knowledge. “What did you tell him?”

“I merely suggested he should purchase a shiny red truck or go on a cruise. Can you blame the old man for finally living a little?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? He’s over me? Hoorah, now I can buy a new pickup?”

“Jaysus, you take everything so personally. The man lives in a shoebox and drives a piece of tin. Don’t you want more for him? He needs to let go of your death and live what’s left of his life.”

I ripped the ad out of the paper. “You need to call for me and buy it.”

“Are you mad?”

“He worked on that truck with his bare hands. It might look unreliable on the outside, but that’s the most dependable piece of machinery this side of Cognito.”

“Aye. Because she had the best mechanic. Who’s going to work on her now?”

“Shepherd’s good with tools. I want it. There’s no fucking way I’m letting someone else buy his truck.” I glanced down at the ad. “Look at this! He’s only selling it for four hundred. Whoever buys this will probably strip it for parts. You’re going to call and make him an offer, but I want you to give him more than a few hundred bucks.”

“Do you think buying your da’s pride and joy is a smart idea? He’ll recognize his own truck on the streets, especially with the OUTLAW sticker on the back. Not unless you paint the damn thing and scrape the back windshield.”

I shoved the rest of the newspaper in the back seat. “He’ll never see me in it. My daddy isn’t the kind of guy who goes out a lot, and Cognito is a big place. I didn’t even know the Bricks existed until you showed me. The odds of him ever bumping into me by accident are less than zero. And the decal stays.”

“Didn’t we agree your seeing him would put an end to this? For feck’s sake, you got that infernal music box that drives me up the wall at night. Now you want his truck, and in three years, you’ll want his trailer. Where does it end?”

“All my childhood memories are in that truck. He worked on it to keep it in perfect running condition and told me that one day he’d give it to me if I wanted. But when I left home, I was too stupid to want it. This isn’t up for debate, Christian. I need that truck.”

“The past belongs in the past.”

Maybe Christian was right. Maybe I didn’t need an old pickup truck that I couldn’t properly care for half as well as my old man could, but it was painful letting go of it all. If I could hold on to one piece of him—something he loved—then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. And he loved that damn truck.

Up ahead, the naked backside of a man came into view. He was running alongside the road, snow pelting him. Christian didn’t slow the truck to gawk at the comical sight, and as we passed, I turned my head to get a better look.

When I spotted the mole on his cheek, I faced forward.