Kill Switch by Douglas Penelope

Author:Douglas, Penelope
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penelope Douglas LLC
Published: 2019-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

Damon

Five Years Ago

We left Anderson’s car where it was and climbed in mine, the guys having already moved on, as I drove her back through town and to her boss’s house.

“What are you going to do?” she asked me.

I pulled up, parking along the curb, across the street from the theater manager’s house, a craftsman-style home with a large wraparound porch and several gables. The yard was green and pristine and only a single light shone from outside the front door.

I wasn’t sure yet. But I always came up with something.

Emory Scott lived in this neighborhood. It was nice and clean but boasted none of the mansions the seaside area of town did. I actually preferred it here. Houses close together, neighbors…it would’ve been a nice place to grow up.

I put the car in Neutral and pulled up the e-brake. “What do you want me to do?”

I looked over at her, her hands clasped in her lap, looking kind of nervous, and I smiled. Her mouth twisted, and I could see the apprehension all over her face. So scared of getting into trouble.

But I was sorry. No one told her what she could and could not do.

Except maybe me.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, looking uncertain. “Let’s just leave.”

“You want to dance?” I prodded. “I’ll get you anything you want.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I get anything I want,” I stated quite plainly.

She laughed under her breath, probably thinking I was joking, and I went weak for a moment, the light in her eyes the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time.

But she shook her head. “No.”

Jesus. Is this how she wanted it? Me taking care of shit that hurt her or pissed her off behind her back because she was too timid? Because that’s what would happen. I didn’t let things slide.

“No one denies you,” I said.

“But not like this,” she told me. “I won’t like how it feels if I don’t earn it honestly.”

Yeah, I got it. I’d probably feel the same way about basketball.

But…

“She deserves to cry like she made you cry, at least,” I pointed out. “At the very least, a pout.”

Telling Winter to give up dancing—encouraging anyone to not do what they wanted to do—was arrogant, presumptive, and smug. I wanted to shut her up.

“I can probably have her fired,” I said.

But Winter just laughed.

I frowned. “Can I at least flood her yard and do donuts?”

“Nothing destructive,” she ordered me. “Nothing mean. It’s got to be funny. And like…easy to clean up. You know? Something elegant.”

“Something middle school,” I corrected her snidely.

She rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat again, smiling to herself.

I relaxed into the headrest, pondering what I had in my trunk. My buddies and I had all been summoned back to town from college to host Devil’s Night tomorrow night, and as soon as we got back today, we’d gone supply shopping. I had bottles of liquor in my trunk, but Winter didn’t want to start any fires.

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