Never Gonna Tell (15 page)

Marco helps me onto the porch and then sits me down on a rusty green glider. I’m shaking, unsure if it’s from the chill in the air or how nervous I’m feeling. I trusted him, and he’s betraying that trust. I feel stupid for believing in him.

Marco bends down and retrieves a key from underneath a small ceramic statue of a frog in a tutu before he opens the door. He scoops me back up again and walks us inside.

The cabin is a tiny, one-room studio. A worn plaid couch with tears in the arms sits in the center of the room. Along the back wall is a rustic kitchen containing only a rusted potbelly stove and an icebox that looks straight out of the fifties. On the other side of the room sits a queen-size bed with a tattered quilt covering the simple wooden frame.

It’s simple, but it’s clean. Someone must be taking care of it since nothing is dusty.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Marco asks, interrupting my inspection of the area. “It was a really long drive.”

All of a sudden, like the word triggered my bladder, I have to pee. Like, bad. “Um, yes.”

“Here, I’ll show you where the outhouse is.” Marco stands and opens a drawer of a side table to pull out a couple of flashlights.

“Outhouse? Seriously? Yeah, I can wait.” I can’t wait, but imagining all the snakes, spiders, and God knows what else lives in an outhouse helps my will power.

Marco shrugs. “Suit yourself, Reagan. But it’s not like you have a change of clothes. And we’re going to be here for a while, soooo …”

Crap. I am going to have to use an outhouse. “Okay, fine. But you’re going first and killing anything that moves inside that thing.”

Marco chuckles. “It’s a deal.” He hands me a flashlight and holds the door open. “After you.”

Hearing him act like we’re friends out for a weekend getaway fills me with annoyance. He’s kidnapped me. We are not friends. This is not a mini-vacay. I ball my fists but swallow the words that threaten to come out. I have no idea what he has planned for me, and I don’t want to make it worse for myself. I also want to know why he’s doing this to me, and I know I’ll catch more flies with honey in this case.

I pause in the doorway and meet his eyes. “Why, Marco?”

I don’t need to expound my question. His face softens, and regret fills his eyes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and swipes across the screen, irritated at whatever he sees. “We’ll talk after you come back from the outhouse. I promise.”

“No, Marco, we’ll talk now.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the doorframe.

He sighs, leaning back against the opposite wall. “I had to, Reagan. There was no way around it. I had to.”

“Your uncle made you do this? What, he’s planning on coming up here and you’re all going to kill me? Kill me like he did Hunter’s dad? Bury my body here in the woods?”

“No, Reagan, nothing like that. I promise, I mean you no harm.”

I scoff. “You kidnapped me. Kidnapped! How can you stand there and say you don’t mean me any harm? You harmed me just by bringing me here! Look at my wrists.” I hold them out for him to see how red and bruised they are.

He winces. “I’m so sorry for that. If there was another way, trust me, I would have taken it.” He looks up at the night sky and brushes his hair back out of his eyes. For a long time he doesn’t look at me or say a word, he just continues to stare at the stars.

There’s something about his posture that twists my gut with fear. I have a really bad feeling about what he’s going to say, and panic swells in my throat.

“They found out, Reagan. They found out that you were there and were going to kill you to make sure you couldn’t testify.”

MY MIND REELS. I sink back against the wall and put my head in my hands as his words and the reality of them sink in. I’m quiet for several long minutes before I say, “So that’s why you took me. That’s why I’m here.”

“Yes.”

I look up at Marco and swallow down the lump in my throat.
I will not cry. I will not cry
. “Thanks for at least telling me the truth.”

Marco nods and looks at me like there is more he wants to say, but doesn’t. He sighs and stares down at his now-dusty black boots.

“Reag—”

“Mar—”

“Sorry,” he says. “Go ahead.”

“It’s just…” I stare at Marco as we stand there facing each other, knowing that I may have only hours or minutes to live. Our eyes lock while I try to find my words. My last words. What am I supposed to feel, knowing this is the end? Shouldn’t my life be flashing in front of my eyes? I know I should be sad and scared, and I am to a degree, but feeling that way will make this too real. And I’m not ready for that. I’m too numb for that right now.

Marco betrayed me. He may not be pulling the trigger himself, but he chose loyalty to his family over my life. It’s my own fault for placing my trust in him to begin with. I smile as a twisted thought enters my head.
He used me, so I might as well use him too.
At least if I’m going to go out, I can go with a smile on my face. And who knows, maybe if I seduce him he’ll lose focus and I can escape.
He folds his arms across his chest, and my eyes are drawn there.
I wonder if quarters really could bounce off those abs. I bet they would. It really is a shame that such a bad soul lives inside such beautiful wrappings.

“Screw it, I’m going out with a bang.”

I take two determined steps forward coming face-to-face with Marco, pushing my body against him. He barely gets out “Wha—” before my lips are locked with his. He’s frozen, but it only takes him a second to get with the program and wrap his arms around me, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck and pulling, tilting my face up.

With the touch of our lips, all of the pent-up sexual frustration that we’ve been dancing around for the last few weeks explodes, engulfing us in a dust storm of lust and desire. Logic, reason, and rational thought can’t see their way through the thick haze of my hunger for him.

I kiss him with vigor, my tongue sliding into his mouth while my hands grip the base of his corded neck. His lips are soft but powerful as he takes control of our embrace, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth before nipping it. His kisses taste better than I imagined, with a hint of cherry soda lingering on his tongue. His hot breath is now ragged as his tongue dips in and out of my mouth, entwining with my own.

Sliding his hands out of my hair, he runs them down to my waist and circles my hips before he lifts me up, our lips never separating. I wrap my legs around him as he spins us around, my center grinding up and down slightly, causing him to groan. My back scrapes the wall, bruising the skin, but I don’t even register the pain. Nothing could bring me down from this high.
Would this be considered Stockholm Syndrome?

Warm, calloused hands lift the hem of my shirt slightly and slide up my back.
Oh my God, he is such a good kisser
. I let go of his neck and lift my hands above my head allowing Marco to pull my tee shirt off. My bra quickly follows. He pauses briefly, just staring at my bare breasts. My nipples harden under his gaze and I so desperately want him to take them into his hot mouth. His lips finally return to my scorching skin, trailing across my jaw and continuing their path down my neck, leaving small goosebumps everywhere he licks and sucks.

His tongue traces the slope of my collarbone and I moan with pleasure.
Sweet Jesus
, I think.
I wonder what else his tongue is good at…
My fingers scrape down his back as I reach the hem of his shirt to pull it off. I want to be skin to skin, feel the warmth of his body against me.

Marco notices my efforts and leans back, regretfully taking his luscious lips away from me as he pulls his shirt off in one quick motion before diving head-first back into my breasts. My fingers run through his hair as I savor the touch of his lips.
Now this is dying happy
.

His eager mouth circles my nipple and sucks in the hardened tip, nipping slightly. The pain barely registers as pleasure radiates throughout my whole body. I can do nothing but hold on as his glorious mouth flicks, pulls, and sucks. I’m practically panting as I gyrate against him, wanting to couple one pleasure point with another.

Marco is already hard, and he groans as I continue to grind my hips against him. He cups his hands on my ass and walks us across the room to the bed, tossing me down so I bounce as we hit the mattress. His pupils dilate, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

Staring up at him, I totally get why girls go for a bad boy now. They’re dark, dangerous, and don’t give a damn about niceties or “taking it slow.” It’s the bad boys that make you feel like your every emotion is out there, ripe for the taking, and you can barely breathe as they pluck the taut strings of each and every one, leaving you to pray they don’t snap one of the thin threads. It’s powerful and scary. It’s living on the edge. And I love it.

“What’s that?” Marco asks as he begins to climb into the bed.

“Huh?”

He pauses over top of me, the muscles in his arms bulging as he balances his weight. “You were mumbling under your breath. Something about bad boys.”

Crap. Had I said that out loud? “Um, nothing.” I wave my hands like I’m guiding an airplane into the terminal. “Just keep going. I want to spend as much time as possible doing this before your uncle gets here.”

He had started back toward me, but reverses course at my words. “What are you talking about? My uncle’s not coming here.”

“Oh, I’d just assumed. Your dad then?”
Why is he still talking? We should be kissing.

“Reagan, no one knows where we are. That’s the whole point of taking you up here.”

I sit up in the bed and fold my arms over my naked breasts, suddenly self-conscious. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What the hell are
you
talking about?”

I grab the blanket at the end of the bed and pull it up to my chin. Somehow, wires have been crossed, and I needed to straighten them out before I go any further. “Marco, you brought me up here because your family found out that I witnessed the murder, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And now that they know, they’re going to whack me.”

Marco rolls his eyes. “No one calls it that in real life, Reagan.”

I huff. “Whatever. Kill me, silence me, ‘off me,’ ‘take care of me’—whatever you want to call it. They’re going to end my life and bury me in these woods, right?”

Marco stands up, looking stunned. “Is that what you think? Then why the hell would you be making out with me right now? About to have sex with me?”

His phone buzzes again in his pocket, and he pulls it out, staring at the screen.

I scrunch my nose. “Um, because I wanted to use you as much as you used me. And because I didn’t want to die with any regrets. I realize it’s sick and twisted with you being an accomplice to my murder and all, but…” I look down, picking at a string as I admit this last part. “Not kissing you would be a huge regret, Marco.”

He shoves his phone back in his pocket, taking a few steps away and turns his back to me. His back muscles are rigid and his fists clenched. He’s angry, and I have no idea why. He punches the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall.

“Goddammit!”

I scramble off the bed and across the room to where my shirt had been abandoned by the couch, quickly tossing it over my head. I rack my brain to figure out what I had done or said to set him off.

His phone buzzes a third time. He grips it so tightly his knuckles turn white. His whole body is tense and rigid. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t do anything.”

He stomps toward the front door, throwing on his shirt before grabbing his jacket and swinging the door wide.

“Where … where are you going?”

He shoves his phone in his pocket as it buzzes a fourth time. He mutters a long string of profanity, his tone seething and his nostrils flaring. Whoever is calling is pissing him off and I can’t tell who he’s angrier with—them or me.

I haphazardly shove most of my bra in my pocket just as I hear the front door slam. I flinch at the noise and sit on my knees, waiting for whatever is going to happen next. All hope of asking Marco vanishes along with him when I hear the car engine revving and tires spinning, tossing up gravel that pings off the roof as he drives away.