Gun Shy(20)

I could take him by surprise, slide the blade into his midsection before he even notices I’ve murdered her. Then I could go and get into the deputy’s car and we could go and have dinner with his family while mine started to decompose here.

I mean, not that I’d ever do that.

“Cassie,” Damon says. I look up from where I’ve been staring at the knife in my hand.

Chris is gone. I hear his car in the driveway. I’ve zoned out again; I do that a lot these days.

“Cassie,” Damon repeats, his tone sharper this time. He takes the knife from me and sets it down. “You’re bleeding all over the food.”

The Band-Aid was useless; the potatoes need to be trashed. I wrap another dishtowel around my hand and let Damon guide me to the sink. He takes the towel away and holds my hand under running water, washing away the blood so he can get a better look at my self-inflicted wound. It’s deep. It’s disgusting. The water stings, but I don’t say a word.

“We need to get you a doctor,” Damon says. Under his breath, he mutters, “Jesus Christ. This is deep. You need stitches.”

I glance at the knife on the counter and wonder how far away Chris is now.





CHAPTER SEVEN





LEO





They don’t serve nachos at Lovelock.

But they do serve them at Dana’s Grill. Gooey, thick cheese, so yellow it’s almost orange. Dana’s homemade salsa, fresh guacamole…. It’s almost like a sexual experience when the waitress slides them in front of me. All of my senses are on high alert, tucked into a back booth of the diner with a baseball cap pulled low so nobody I know will see me. I should be at home, but I don’t have to check in with the sheriff’s department until Monday morning, and I know it’ll be a shit show as soon as Ma sees me. So I’m taking the scenic route home, from the Greyhound bus stop outside the diner to Ma’s property a mile down the road. And I’m taking my fucking time.

I’m hyperaware of my surroundings; the hiss of the fluorescent lights overhead; intermittent beeps and sizzles in the kitchen, food on, food off. The ding of the service bell that tells the waitresses when food is up and ready to be served. It’s so dark in here even with the overhead lights and the bar lamps that hang over every table. So dark compared to a white-washed prison cell. The seat is soft underneath me, so soft that my back starts to ache. I’m not used to being comfortable. I’m not used to being alone like this.

I like being alone and at the same time, it’s terrifying. Nobody telling me when to eat. When to shower. When to sleep. Just me, and the cup of black coffee in front of me, and now the nachos so sexy I almost come in my pants when I see them. They’re placed in front of me by a pale, slender arm, and I follow that arm to its owner as if in slow motion.

A pretty girl stands at the end of my booth. She can’t be more than seventeen, but she’s got the body of a woman. Tits that strain against her bright pink Dana’s Grill shirt; the buttons at her sternum struggling to contain them. Lips painted in a gloss with specks of glitter in it. Big brown doe-eyes that look amused when the path my gaze is making finally meets hers.

“More coffee?”

I laugh under my breath. “I know you.”

She smiles as she pours more coffee into my mug, her nose wrinkling up when she does. “You’re in Gun Creek. Pretty sure you know everyone, Leo Bentley. Welcome home.”

She’s Chase’s little sister. “Jenny. Christ, last time I saw you, you were, what — ten?”

Shit. I’ve been checking out the girl I used to babysit when she was in diapers. “Eight, I think,” she replies. “I just turned sixteen.”

“Really?” My dick is hard as granite under the table. It hasn’t been inside a woman in eight years. I should not be looking at a sixteen-year-old and getting a hard-on, but then I looked at the nachos on the menu and got a hard-on. So, I’m going to try and forgive myself. And then find someone age-appropriate to fuck as soon as possible. I already feel sorry for whoever that girl’s going to be because I’m either going to last ten seconds, or I’m going to fuck her so hard she sees stars.

Cassie and I used to sneak out to the fields and have sex, and then look for shooting stars after as we fumbled our clothes back on and caught our breath. Then I ruined everything.

Suddenly I’m not so turned on anymore.

I pick up a corn chip and bring it to my mouth as Jennifer looks around conspiratorially. She puts her coffee pot down on the edge of the table and slides into the booth across from me. “I’m surprised you’re here,” she says. “You know Cassie still works here, right?”

The hairs on my arms stand up on end, like someone’s tasered me, and I look around the diner as I try to shrink down in my seat without her noticing.

“Don’t worry, she works the morning shift,” Jennifer says, taking an upside-down mug from next to the sugar packets and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I ask her, watching as she dumps three sugars in her coffee and stirs.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at home?” she asks in response. I grimace, not knowing what to say, wishing she’d go away now so I can shove these fucking nachos in my face instead of politely nibble them like I am now.