Peter grips the wheel hard enough to make his knuckles turn white and stares at his fingers. Inhaling deeply, he shifts his blue gaze to the side, his eyes searching mine. “I do trust you. It’s him I don’t trust—he’s off. There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. Add in the shit with Sean, and I think you going in there is a bad move.” His eyes are soulful as he speaks, as if he’s pleading with me to reconsider.
He’s right, of course, but there isn’t another way. “Peter, the thing is, my life is so messed up right now I can’t go anywhere without someone threatening to hurt me. I know you mean well, but I have to do this. I’ll get Sean back.”
Peter looks as if he wants to argue, but begrudgingly stays seated. He mashes his lips together, swallows some words he decides not to say, and sighs deeply. His shoulders slump a little and I know he won’t fight me anymore. I’m not entirely sure how he talked me into letting him drive me out here in the first place. He’s sneaky like his brother, but he cares about me and he cares about Sean—that much I know.
Peter runs his hands through his hair and glances over at me from behind the steering wheel. “Mel will come for you if you’re not back in this spot in an hour. That woman scares the hell out of me. I’m sure she’ll kill Marty if he hurts you, and she’ll have fun doing it. By the way, why are all your closest friends mental?”
Mel is a handful and has had a hard life. She knows how to take care of herself, but I don’t think she’s killed anyone. People still think she’s responsible for the dead hooker in Sean’s hotel room, but I know it wasn’t her. Once she knows a person, and likes them, Mel drops her guard. The sad part is there are very few people she can relax around, so they only know the version of Mel that’s a little rough around the edges.
I bump Peter with my shoulder and wave my finger at him while speaking, trying not to smile. “Come on Mr. Poet, you already know the answer to that. Friends are a reflection of oneself. You might want to reconsider that thing you’ve got going on with Mr. Turkey.”
Peter laughs. “Better go over to the tall dark grass now before the crazy guy comes looking for you.” I squeeze his hand and hop out of his sleek black car, slamming the door behind me. Peter puts down the passenger window and leans across the seat. “Be careful.” His eyes are locked on mine, and we both jump, startled, when a voice comes from the shadows behind me.
“Oh, she will be.” Marty steps out from the shadows and lunges at me. He completely ignores Peter, who is swearing and kicking his door open, ready to follow us.In an instant, I feel myself being carried away from the car and into the darkness. His hand is over my mouth, stifling my scream.
Chapter 2
I bite down on the flesh of Marty’s palm and he releases me, spewing curses while he does it. Stomping my foot down hard, I crush his toes. He’s wearing velvet lounge slippers, and wails like a baby. I don’t have time to wonder why he’s dressed for bed—Marty always dresses weird. When we first met, I thought it was because he was gay. The asshole used my assumption to get close to me. Repressed anger rears its head from deep within me.
Marty shot Sean.
Growling wildly, I round on him, ready to fight. I want my fists in his face. I want to hear his nose crunch and cause him as much pain as he caused Sean.
Just before my knee lifts to hit him in the tenders, he grabs my shoulders and leans in. “Stop.”
It’s one word, one request that changes everything. If I wander off with him, things could get worse. I pause for a second, waiting for him to say something else or fight back, but he doesn’t.
Peter remains by his car, silently watching, his eyes narrowed into slits. His body is poised and prepared, ready to run over and save me. I can’t let him do that. I have to find out where Marty took Sean and this is the only way. I shake my head at Peter, warning him to stay there. He flinches and grits his teeth, but he doesn’t move any further toward us.
Lifting my hand in a gesture of peace, I nod at Marty. “Take me to Sean.”
Marty shakes his head and looks from me to Peter’s car. “You know, I can’t fucking believe this, Avery. I told you to come alone. You deliberately disobeyed my request and came with not just anyone, but one of the Ferro brothers. Then you break my foot instead of saying hello.” He mutters to himself for a moment, and then glances at the car, agitated. “Tell Ferro to take a hike or you won’t like how this goes.”
Marty’s hair is a mess and he’s wearing rich guy pajamas. He reminds me of a young Hugh Hefner, wearing a velvet robe and tasseled belt. How has no one noticed him, dressed like that? The police must be blind not to notice this guy. He’s on the beach, in velvet slippers, with no car. Where’s a state trooper when you need one? I glance up and down the road, but it’s empty.