Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [8]
Nate’s smile was wide, the kind that won over friend and foe alike, clouded men’s minds and women’s, too. “But you know I love trouble.” He reached out a hand to Jamie and pulled her to her feet.
“She’s not wearing that,” Dillon said.
“Killer, you are no fun at all,” Nate protested. “I think we should show up at Crazy Jack’s with my cousin the prom queen.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jamie said nervously.
“Of course it is. Go change into something sexy. Dress like a bad girl for a change. Wouldn’t you like to be a bad girl, just once?”
“Not particularly.” She cast a wary glance up at Dillon. He tended to ignore her, and she’d probably exchanged maybe a dozen words with him in her entire life. “What do you think, Dillon? Should I come with you guys?”
She should have known she’d get no answer from him. “Suit yourself. Just hurry up.”
She was crazy to do it. Her parents only tolerated Dillon because of Nate, but there was no way they’d approve of her going out with them. Dillon came from the wrong side of the tracks, and his behavior befitted his upbringing. He’d already spent three months in juvie for stealing cars, and no one had any illusions that he’d changed his ways. He’d just gotten more careful.
Jamie could never understand what Nate saw in him. Maybe it was his to-hell-with-you attitude. Nate charmed everyone he came in contact with, needing their approval; Dillon didn’t care one way or another. He just did what he wanted and let the chips fall where they may.
And she was going out with him. Well, not with him, really. She was just tagging along with her cousin and Dillon and as soon as they got to Crazy Jack’s, wherever that was, he’d find someone to keep himself busy. Nate would look after her—she trusted him with her life.
The prom dress ripped slightly when she yanked it over her head. She tossed it in the corner, found a pair of jeans and a big white shirt. She buttoned it up high, just so Dillon didn’t get any ideas, and headed back out to the sound of their voices before she could change her mind.
They were in the kitchen drinking beer. Her father wouldn’t like that one bit—the boys were only nineteen and one of them would be driving. Dillon was to blame, of course. Maybe after tonight Jamie would have some kind of idea of what Nate saw in him. And if she did, maybe she’d help her parents figure out how to get Nate away from such a dangerous influence.
“That’s better, precious,” Nate said approvingly. Dillon said nothing, draining his beer.
“We’d better get going. Rachel will be pissed.”
“Who’s Rachel?” Jamie asked. Maybe Dillon had a girlfriend, after all. In fact, he was very good-looking. A polar opposite to her cousin, he was tall, blue-eyed, teenage skinny with endless legs. He had the best cheekbones she’d ever seen on a man, she had to admit that much. And the kind of mouth a susceptible girl might find attractive. If she liked danger.
“Never you mind about Rachel,” Nate said fondly. “She’s nothing serious. Just for fun.”
“Is she your date or Dillon’s?” she asked.
“Carry these.” Dillon shoved a six-pack of beer into her arms. “And you’ve forgotten. You’re my date for the night.”
She looked at him warily, not certain whether he was kidding or not. With Dillon you could never quite tell.
Her only choice was to ignore him. She wrapped her arms around the beer, hoping the white cotton of her shirt would disguise her bundle, and followed them out into the driveway.
It was a warm night in May. The peepers were in full voice, and there was a soft breeze ruffling through the bright green leaves overhead. The kind of night that always put an ache of longing in the pit of her stomach, though she never could quite figure out what she was longing for.
Dillon’s old car was parked in the driveway. There was no mistaking it—a very old yellow Cadillac convertible that he’d fixed up himself. It was fast and big, and he could outrun the police if he really wanted