Undertow by J.M. Snyder

Author:J.M. Snyder [Snyder, JM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2011-11-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Driving with Kellen beside him in the fading daylight of late afternoon was no less eerie than it had been the night before. Then the dark night and empty streets had helped buffer Derek’s emotions; in the glaring sunlight slanting through his windshield, he found his own convoluted thoughts and feelings so much harder to ignore. Every now and then he would glance over at his traveling companion, only to catch Kellen staring back with a cryptic grin on his face. There was something unsettling about him, about this whole situation. Derek wanted nothing more than to get it over with and get the merrow back out of his life for good, but he suspected doing so wouldn’t be quite that simple.

Derek rolled down his window all the way, hoping to air out the car’s fishy interior. Kellen wore the same clothes he had the night before, though his appearance was disheveled and negligent now—his cowboy hat was pushed back at a sharp angle, the brim no longer hiding his face, and his shirt was misbuttoned, the zipper on his jeans gaping open. At stop lights when Derek dared to look away from the road, he found Kellen’s fingers poking into that open zipper, fondling himself or just rearranging his genitals, one of the two. There were no underpants beneath the jeans, and when Kellen extracted his fingers from the hole in the denim, Derek could see dirty blond curls the color of wet sand puff up through the gap.

Their silence was broken by Kellen’s tuneless humming, an annoying, self-satisfied sound accompanied by one hand tapping Kellen’s knee. Once or twice he even let out a soft whistle, and the smirk on his face bothered Derek. When they turned onto the road that led to the Den of Thieves, Derek gunned the engine as if he could hope to outrun the sound. “Will you stop it?” he snapped.

That smile spread a bit farther—Kellen was enjoying his discomfort. “Stop what?”

Breathing, Derek wanted to reply, but he kept the thought to himself. Instead he concentrated on the road ahead and tried to tune Kellen out.

They passed the bar, closed this time of the afternoon. The neon sign was dark, the windows unlit, the parking lot deserted. Derek turned down a side street that was more dirt than road and slowed the car when he felt the gritty crunch of sand beneath his tires. The road petered out as it ran to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the crashing surf below; then it looped away from the cliffs, around toward the far end of the peninsula, heading down to an old lighthouse and nature preserve before doubling back to the Den and, beyond that, the rest of San Diego. As Derek pulled off the road, he had a brief image of kicking Kellen out the passenger side door then speeding away, back to civilization, as his old friend tumbled down the side of the cliffs, cursing Derek’s name. He’d move past

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