“You can’t just keep me here forever.”
Mitch’s jaw clenched, and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I’ll figure it out when we get to the safe house. For now, just drive and keep your mouth shut.”
I knew I had to stay calm and bide my time. Mitch was unpredictable, and I had no idea what he was capable of. My mind flashed to Cameron, hoping he had managed to escape unnoticed. The kid had guts, and I prayed he was safe.
I had no fucking idea where Mitch was taking me, but when we crossed the state line into West Virginia, I knew I was in this shit for the long haul. Whatever plan Mitch had, he was taking me along for the ride.
“Goddamn it!” Mitch roared, throwing a mug across the room.
Lounging on a worn sofa, I smiled. “What’s the matter, Mitch? Plan going to shit?”
“Shut up, bitch.”
I chuckled at that. “Wow. And you kiss my mother with that mouth? Better not call her that or she’ll be taking a cast-iron skillet to your head. Rome ever hears you say that, and he’s liable to slit your throat. No. I take it back. Curse away in front of Romeo. I dare you.”
“Would you shut the hell up? My plan is going to shit,” he grumbled, and I smiled. Yeah, that was never gonna happen. I was so over this shit. I wanted to go home. I was tired, hungry, cold, and dumbass had made me drive deep into the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. Not that the last part bothered me that much. I mean, I’d heard stories of these mountains before, but I figured if I could find my way out of the bayou at night, I could easily find my way out of these here woods.
“Piss poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part.”
“Keep talkin’, C.C., and I will shoot you.”
I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. You could shoot me, but that would just piss me off, and you know how lippy I get when I’m mad. Of course, if you told me what the fuck was going on, I might be inclined to help you out of this mess.”
Mitch’s pacing grew frantic, his boots scraping against the warped wooden floor with every step. The cabin was silent except for his muttering and the occasional creak of the worn boards. Outside, the twilight deepened, the shadows stretching long and menacing, though I felt oddly calm amidst the chaos.
“You know, my uncle told me a story once about this area. It’s haunted. Like really haunted. There is this legend of Spearfinger. It’s believed this Spearfinger is a witch-like hag who can take on the figure of a sweet old grandmother. Apparently, the Spearfinger protects certain parts of the Appalachian Mountains, you know, warning off outsiders who don’t belong. Now legend has it, if you piss her off, she will sing you to sleep after she uses her fingers to gouge out your liver and eat it in front of you,” I said, looking out the window before adding, “I wonder if you’ve pissed her off enough yet?”
“C.C., you think this is some kind of joke?” Mitch barked, his voice cracking with desperation. “You think I’m playing around here?”
Smirking, I shook my head. “Nope. Never occurred to me. Why? Are you playing around?”
Mitch stopped pacing and fixed me with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about me screwing up. This is bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than all of us.”
I tilted my head, watching him unravel with a bemused expression. “Oh, I get it, Mitch. Pressure’s a bitch, huh? Butyou’re the one who thought you could handle it. So let’s hear it—what’s the grand master plan now?”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end like a crow’s nest. Outside, the deepening twilight seemed to press against the grimy cabin windows, as if the shadows themselves were keen to eavesdrop on our sordid little drama.
“There’s no way out,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. The words hung in the air like the scent of damp wood and despair.
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the sofa with exaggerated nonchalance. “No way out of what, Mitch? This cabin in the woods or your own damn mess? Gonna need ya to be more specific?” I snarked just as we both heard a twig snap from outside.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cameron
Outside the cabin...
Boy howdy, was King gonna be really mad at me this time.
In my defense, this wasn’t my fault. I was a victim of happenstance. Okay, so I wasn’t technically supposed to be in the garage, or sitting in Trip’s car, or allowed to leave the clubhouse before sunrise, but how was I supposed to know that some douchecanoe would show up and kidnap Ms. C.C.?
I was only seven.
I weren’t no freaking mind reader!
Still, the second I saw the dude, I knew trouble had found me... again.
Maybe King was right. Maybe I was a magnet for trouble.
