Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [34]
But still she clutched the key tightly in her hand, for what comfort it could give her.
He hadn’t kissed her. Hadn’t even touched her. And yet she felt stripped, seduced, vulnerable and shaken. He’d always been able to have that effect on her. And this time there was no Nate to interfere. Dillon would do exactly what he wanted, just as he always had. Whether she wanted him to or not.
And the wretched, miserable thing was part of her wanted him to. To touch her. Kiss her. Even though she knew better.
She closed her eyes, but she could still see the neon flashing behind her eyelids. She had to get out of here. Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to talk him into helping her. Unless he had some other reason for keeping her there. Some reason she hadn’t yet figured out.
In the long run it didn’t matter. What mattered was just getting the hell away from there. She could buy a new car—she should have years ago. She could just abandon her old Volvo and buy something new. But in the meantime, if Dillon wasn’t going to let her go, she’d have no choice but to take matters into her own hands.
And steal one of his cars.
She could do it. She could do anything if her motivation was strong enough. And all she had to do was think back to that terrible night so long ago and she knew what she had to do.
Twelve Years Ago
“I thought you’d be at the prom with Zack Gunther,” Paul Jameson said. His voice was slightly slurred, just enough to put Jamie on guard. He was wearing a powder-blue tuxedo that would have made her mother faint with horror. In fact, Jamie wasn’t impressed with it, either. It didn’t fit him very well—it strained over his bulky shoulders and came up too high on his wrists. He was still the best-looking boy in the junior class, and Jamie told herself she should be more appreciative.
“We broke up,” she said. “What about Charlene? Is she here?”
“Hell, no. She dumped me, too, on the way to the prom. Rented this fucking tuxedo for nothing. Looks like you didn’t get that far.”
Jamie thought of her pink confection of a dress back home on her bedroom floor. “No, I didn’t get that far.”
“I figure I can have a better time here, anyway. There’s lots of weed, lots of beer, and I heard that someone was bringing blow. Probably that boyfriend of yours.”
“Blow? Boyfriend?” she echoed, confused.
“What are you, retarded? No, I remember. You’re an honors student, aren’t you? Lemme explain some of the facts of life to you. Weed is marijuana. You smoke it to get high.”
“I know what weed is,” she said, getting irritated.
“Beer’s an alcoholic malt beverage much preferred by high school students. Me, I prefer tequila, and you’ll be pleased to know I brought a bottle with me. Blow is cocaine, and your boyfriend is Dillon Gaynor, who provides the marijuana and the blow around here.”
“Says who?” It was only logical, but for some reason she didn’t want to believe it.
“Just ask your brother Nate.”
“Cousin,” she corrected absently. “And Dillon’s not my boyfriend. I just got a ride out here with him.”
“Yeah, you’re not really Killer’s type. And if you were, he wouldn’t have handed you off to me.” He reached out and grabbed Jamie’s hand. “Let’s go find us a little privacy and maybe I’ll show you how to drink tequila.”
“I’m sure I can manage it without any instruction.” She looked around her, but the people who’d greeted them had disappeared, and they were alone by Dillon’s battered yellow Cadillac. With no sign of Nate or Dillon anywhere around.
“Where’d they all go?” she asked.
Paul grinned down at her, sliding his hand up her arm. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll keep you company.”
In the end, maybe it was her fault. She’d taken one look at Paul’s handsome face and known he was drunk. He didn’t force