Page 38 of Fueled Hate

“You good?” he whispers, looking to my feet.

“A pair of shoes would’ve been helpful.”

“Don’t tell me that little Sadie didn’t run around here barefoot, full of dirt, oil, and grease because I wouldn’t buy it for a second.”

“You don’t know me.” Although his guess is accurate. I’d spent more time at this shop—and usually barefoot and a complete mess—than I’d spent anywhere else as a child.

Stopping behind the structure, Dylan motions to the side of the building. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll be quiet.” He holds out his hands, motioning for me to climb onto the dumpster as he offers to help. None of this feels smart, but it’s a little too late to back out now. And I need to know what’s going on. What does Dylan know about my dad’s shop?

Placing my foot in his hand, he boosts me onto the metal dumpster then pulls himself up. He wordlessly offers to help me onto the roof, but I move past him, gripping the side of the metal building, pulling myself up. It’s not my first time making this climb. The area was supposed to be off-limits, but that never stopped Levi and me from sneaking up here and getting caught more times than I can remember.

As my hands clutch the scratchy metal, his strong hand presses my ass, supporting me as I attempt to gain my footing. It shouldn’t be this difficult since it’s a flat surface. Turning, I eye Dylan as he joins me on the rooftop.

“Keep your hands off of me.”

“I was just giving you an extra nudge.” His low, smooth voice infuriates me further. He’s enjoying this shit and my head is spinning with a million theories as to why we’re here … and none of them are good.

I fight every urge I have to yell at the asshole and instead whisper, “I didn’t need your help and never will.”

Dylan steps forward, moving his mouth next to my ear as he whispers, “Keep trying to convince yourself of that, Sadie Pie.”

My sharp intake of breath is the only sound as we stand on the rooftop. Even surrounded by darkness, his brown eyes penetrate straight to my soul. “How do you know that?”

“Like I said, I know more about you than you know about yourself.”

My mom is the only person who’s ever called me that. How the fuck does he know? “Stop it. Stop playing games with my head.”

He steps forward as I move back against the metal wall of the second level of the oversized garage bays. Pressing his palms flat against the hard surface, he leans forward, stopping just before his lips touch mine. “Is there something else you want me to play with?”

For a split second, I didn’t think he was going to stop until his lips were against mine. It would be a lie to say I hadn’t wondered what that would feel like, and I can’t say that I’m not still curious. But his disturbing behavior is a definite turnoff; I’m not into making out with my psychotic kidnapper while standing on the roof above my dad’s office. “You can play with yourself for all I care. Leave me alone, and go straight to hell.”

“Is that pent-up aggression because you don’t want me to play with you … or because you do?” His words tease me, pulling at my desire as my brain tells me to shut that shit down.

I don’t care how hot he is. He’s a demented asshole. Clenching my jaw, I glare at the idiot before me. If he wanted to physically harm me, he’s had way too many chances, though the unhinged fucker did break into my house. “Tell me why we’re here or this absurd venture into your twisted mind is over.”

“As you wish.” The mischievous tone is gone as he pushes off the wall and walks across the flat surface of the roof, stopping at one of the small rectangular windowpanes overlooking the garage bays lining the metal wall. When I don’t make a move to follow, he nods to the window, slowly lifts his hand to wave me over.

As I step in front of the window, he hunches down, bringing me with him as we peek through the corner of the window. Looking to the garage bay that’s lit up on the end, I spot an older model sedan and see my dad digging in its trunk. He pulls a spare tire out, dropping it on the ground, and props it against the bumper. None of that should be suspicious but it’s three o’clock in the morning, and I’ve been brought here to witness something. “What’s going on?”

“Just watch,” Dylan says, his eyes glued to my dad as I do the same.

Dad reaches in, unbolting what should be the metal base of the trunk but he lifts it out, pulling several small blocks of something wrapped in plastic. “What is it?”

Dylan doesn’t answer as we continue watching. Dad moves to the side of the car, removing the rear quarter panel where at least ten more blocks are tucked into a groove in between the side of the car.

“Dylan, please tell me what’s going on.” I plead, knowing the answer. It’s not that hard to figure out while Dad continues moving around the vehicle, efficiently disassembling and reassembling panel after panel, pulling out more and more blocks.

“Pills. Some prescription, some not, but all sell well on uni campuses.”

“You’re lying.” But I know he isn’t. My brain just can’t accept what I’m observing with my own eyes. Why would my dad do this? Everything with … Levi. Is my dad giving Levi drugs? Overlooking is one thing, but supplying him? Something is off. The person I’m watching is not my dad. This isn’t something he would do. Or would he?

“Tell that to one of your friends when someone slips a pill in their drink, or yours.”

My stomach turns at the thought as my fingernails dig into the hard metal surface of the wall. Why would Dad do this? How could he?

“I can’t …” I move to stand, trying to shake the thoughts out of my mind.

Dylan tenderly clasps my hand in his, entwining his fingers around mine as he whispers, “Sadie, look. You need to see all of it.”