“What are you saying?” he asked skeptically.
I shook my head, that unease in my stomach turning into a boulder. “I don’t know, but something doesn’t seem right here. Get Mark on the phone. I’m on my way.”
Remi
My entire face throbbed and my head pounded as I slowly roused to consciousness. It took several seconds for my foggy brain to clear enough so I could make sense of where I was, and even then, I still couldn’t fully comprehend what the hell was happening.
We were in a vehicle, traveling down the road. I was folded over on myself, my back aching at the position I had been in for who knew how long. Mark’s voice echoed throughout the cab of what I assumed was his truck, a sharp contrast to the man who had put me there to begin with. It was the memory of his hand landing hard across my face that caused me to jerk upright. As I pressed my back into the door, the armrest bit sharply into my already sore flesh.
I forced air into my lungs in a pathetic attempt to steel myself and then looked over to where the deceptively gentle voice was coming from. Mark’s gaze cut to mine, his eyes narrowed, and his smile fell immediately.
Don’t say a fucking word, he mouthed.
With wild eyes and my heart racing at a marathon pace, I stared at him. I couldn’t have said anything even if I’d wanted to. My brain was still fuzzy, so what I was seeing didn’t register.
Mark was my best friend. Yet he was a stranger.
As he turned his attention back to his call, he morphed back into the man I knew. Cool and casual, he laughed at something the person on the other end had said. “Nah, it’s nothing serious. Probably just a cold or something. Nothing I can’t sleep off. See if Brent can stay late tonight. I’ll be in tomorrow. Yeah. No, that’s cool. Okay. Thanks.”
He hit the end button and dropped his phone into the cupholder in the center console, never taking his eyes off the road ahead.
Finally, I managed to snap out of the haze and with a shaky voice asked, “Where are you taking me?”
He pinned me again with a cold glare. “Jesus fuck, Remi. Clean up your face. You’re getting blood all over my Goddamn truck.”
I flinched as his hand shot out toward me, a reaction he clearly enjoyed as the corners of his lips curved upward. Afraid of what he was going to do, I kept my vision trained on that hand, giving a small breath of thanks when, instead of making contact with me, he pulled the handle to the glove box, popping it open. The sight of the gun inside skyrocketed my pulse. I knew he had one. He’d gotten it for protection for the times he had to take the bar’s weekly deposits to the bank. He had permits, had taken classes, and occasionally went to the gun range for target practice. I’d even gone with him once. Never in my life had I ever been scared of what he would do with it.
Until now.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammered, pressing into the seat in a desperate attempt to disappear.
“Relax,” he rumbled, annoyance lacing the word. He slapped his hand around inside the compartment, blindly digging through the messy contents until he found what he was looking for. The stack of napkins he threw at me hit my chest and dropped into my lap. Just before he slammed the glove box shut, I saw the one thing that was almost as terrifying as the gun inside.
My stomach rolled as I swung my gaze his way, tears immediately filling my eyes. “Why do you have Bowen’s EpiPen?” I didn’t want him to answer. I wasn’t sure I could handle the truth.
“If it’s in my truck, then it can’t be in his leg, now can it?”
“You stole it? Why would you do that?”
He barked a laugh. “Because I went to a lot of fucking trouble to sneak powdered peanuts into the spaghetti sauce without you or Aaron noticing.”
“Oh my God, Mark,” I croaked. “You could have killed him.”
He huffed. “Gee, Remi, it’s almost as if that was the goal.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth, forcing the contents of my stomach to stay where they were, and stared at the man beside me.
I’d spent over a decade with him. For more than ten fucking years, we’d been friends.
Best friends. Roommates. Fucking family.
Yet I didn’t know Mark Friedman at all.
The maniac driving the truck at an alarming speed wasn’t the same kid I’d met behind the gym our junior year in high school. He was unhinged and downright sinister. A mere hour ago, I would have gone to blows with anyone who’d had one bad word to say about the gentle giant who had become a fixture in my life. But now? I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t know him at all. And I sure as hell didn’t want to stick around to learn everything else I didn’t know about him.
