"Well, I explained how wenormallykidnap mascots." She gave it some more thought. "And I told her about the car…"
"What car?"
"You know. Joey and Paul's car. You remember, right?"
Like I'd forget. It was the same car that they'd tried to drag Chloe into. It was also the same car that I'd left at the restaurant, with those guys locked in the trunk. "I remember."
"Anyway," Amber continued, "I think Chloe thought it was paint."
I shook my head. "Whatwas paint?"
"You know, the stuff you wrote."
Finally, I got it. In the trunk of Joey and Paul's car, we'd found a bottle of white shoe polish, the kind with a built-in sponge. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was for. They'd been planning to write something on Chloe's car.
Maybe it was a joke. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, I didn't like it. Sometimes, that stuff didn't come off.
So, I'd given them a taste of their own medicine. I'd taken their own shoe polish and wrote things of my own – profanity mostly. Recalling what I'd written across the hood, I said it out loud. "Asshole patrol."
"Yup, that was it," Amber said. "And you know, it's kind of true, about them being assholes, I mean."
Obviously, she didn't get it. "You think I was callingthemassholes?"
"Weren't you?"
No. I wasn't. Simple name-calling wasn't my style. Those words were a warning. The asshole wasme, and if they messed with Chloe in any way, they'd see that for themselves. I'd told them so, and I'd meant every word.
I had a lot of friends, in high places, in low places too. Those guys could run, but they couldn't hide. But Amber didn't need details, so I shrugged off the question by saying, "It doesn't matter."
Amber glanced down, and her body became very still. When she never looked up, I ducked my chin to see what she was staring at.
At what I saw, I stifled a curse. If I was lucky, she wouldn’t ask. But luck, apparently, wasn't on my side.
Chapter 22
Amber was still staring at my wrists. "What happened?"
After showering, I hadn't replaced the bandages. I figured I didn't need to. I wasn't going anyplace, and there was no more dripping blood, just long dark scabs and raw skin around the edges.
It was ugly, but not as bad as it looked. Still, I didn't like anyone looking.
I crossed my arms to hide the damage. "It's nothing," I said.
When she looked up, her eyes were troubled. "You didn't try to kill yourself?" She hesitated. "Did you?"
"No."
She bit her lip. "You know, if you want to talk–"
"I don't." I looked toward my favorite car. The windshield was busted, and the side mirrors were missing. But the dents were my biggest problem. They'd be the hardest things to fix, assuming they were fixable at all.
The way it looked, my car had sustained a lot more damage than I had. Skin healed itself. Metal and glass, not so much.
I was still looking at the car when Amber spoke again. "You really love her, don't you?"
"Yeah." I turned to meet her gaze. "I do."
Her eyes were wet. "Lawton?"
