Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

41

Charlotte

“How long did you work as a welder?” I asked in that perfect moment after sex, when the bed was a tangle of sheets and legs.

“Seven years.”

“Do you miss it?”

Jayce snorted. “I thought I did, at first. After having a nine-to-five job for most of a decade, I didn’t know what to do with myself when I woke up in the morning. But I don’t think it was the job itself I missed. It was the steady paycheck. There’s somethin’ to be said for consistency, ya know?”

I let out a long, emotional sigh. “You’re talking to someone who was self-employed. I’d kill for a consistent paycheck.”

“So you don’t miss your food truck, Peaches?”

I shrugged, which rubbed my shoulder against his beard. “I miss parts of it. I liked working with people. It’s immensely satisfying making food with your hands, selling it, and then watching people eat it happily. But sixteen hour days just to get to that point? I don’t miss that at all.”

“Then what do you want to do when you leave here?” he asked.

“That’s the question my parents have been asking.” I poked him in the ribs, which made him grunt. “How does it feel to sound like my dad?”

“Just making conversation, Peaches.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “My degree is in business. I guess I can do a lot with that.”

“I didn’t ask what you can do,” he pointed out. His fingers caressed through my hair in a soft scalp massage. “I asked what you want to do.”

“I wish I knew!” I let out a frustrated laugh. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. I’ll worry about it when I get home. By then, I’ll have all the hours in the day to decide.”

I cringed at the mention of leaving Eastland and going home, and expected it to spark a discussion about how tomorrow was the end of our fling. But Jayce didn’t seem to notice.

“Nothing wrong with waiting until you’re sure,” he agreed. “Hey. Did that deposit go through?”

“Oh! Let me check.” I reached across Jayce’s nude, muscle-covered body to grab my phone. A few taps on the banking app and I groaned. The money my parents had deposited into my bank account still hadn’t arrived. Money I needed to pay my remaining motel balance, the car parking fees, and all the court fees to reinstate my driver’s license.

“How long’s it supposed to take?” Jayce asked.

“They said up to seven days. Momma said it should only take three. Tomorrow will be day four.”

“What time’s your meeting with Judge Asshole?”

“Noon, on the nose,” I said. After scraping together extra hours on the weekends, I only had three hours of community service remaining. Less than half a day, which I could knock out tomorrow morning. Then I was meeting with Judge Benjamin to verify everything and officially release me of my obligation. “Maybe the money will be deposited in the morning.”

“If not, you’re in trouble. If you give the sheriff a check that bounces, he’s gonna tack on a whole bunch of penalties. Maybe even get the judge to fuck you over with more community service. Hell,” Jayce added, “the judge might decide you haven’t been properly rehabilitated, and give you another hundred hours of community service just for shits and grins. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked someone over like that.”

I shoved him playfully. “You should be comforting me, not giving me more reasons to freak out.”

“Just being honest with you, Peaches. If you want me to tell you sweet lies, I can do that too.”

I stretched out across his warm body and sighed. “As tempting as ignorance sounds, it’s best that I’m prepared. Maybe I can convince the sheriff to wait a few days before depositing my check.”

Jayce got a funny look on his face, and then kissed me on the crown of my head. “Wait here. I need to get something.”

He climbed out of bed, giving me a nice show of his legs and butt. I was pretty sure he was flexing his cheeks as he put on his jeans, but I didn’t mind one bit. “Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise. Don’t go anywhere.” He flashed me a sexy smile before disappearing out the door.

His vague comments only made me more curious, as if it was a fun little game. I jumped out of bed, threw on my jeans and one of Jayce’s T-shirts, and hopped into my shoes on the way to the door.

It was a clear night, and the forest was filled with the sounds of animals chirping and croaking. I squinted into the darkness, scanning the trees for Jayce. There, to my right: the bright cone of a flashlight moved through the woods.

I followed quietly. The ground was still soft from the recent rain, which deadened my footsteps on the little trail. I don’t know how far into the trees he went, but I followed him for about a minute before he stopped. He crouched low, shrinking the cone of the flashlight to a small circle.

I didn’t know what I expected as I drew closer. Since it was our last night together, part of me hoped it was a going-away present. A metal wind chime he’d built in his workshop, or something to that effect. Something sweet. What else would he put in the woods outside his barn?

Jayce whirled his head when he heard me approach his little spot. He relaxed, then tensed. “Peaches. I told you to wait.”

“I wanted to see where you were skulking out to in the middle of the night.” On the ground next to him was a wooden crate buried in the dirt. He’d removed the top, revealing the hollow interior deep in the ground. “What’s going on?”

He held up a tight roll of twenty-dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band. “My retirement fund. This is to cover your expenses tomorrow if your deposit doesn’t come through. That should be a grand. You can pay me back in the bedroom once my strength returns.”

“That’s sweet,” I said. I meant it, too. Then I got a look at the interior of the crate. Inside was a single gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with other rolls of cash. As the cone of the flashlight passed over it I saw rolls of twenties, fifties, and hundred-dollar bills.

“Geez, Jayce. If Sid ever sees this, he’s gonna think you did steal from the Copperheads.”

It was a joke. A lighthearted jab between two lovers who spent all day teasing each other. I didn’t really think it was the Copperheads’ money. It was probably just where Jayce hid his savings since there wasn’t a bank in this crummy little town.

But Jayce tensed. Only for a moment, but by now I knew him well enough to notice it immediately.

“Hah, right,” he said back. But it was too late. I’d seen the hesitation before he laughed it off. The way he clenched his jaw.

I felt my body go cold. “Jayce, what is this?”

He tensed again. His face was covered with shadows caused by the indirect glow of the flashlight, but I could see the fear in his cobalt eyes. Absolute terror that I had discovered the truth.

“Peaches…” he began.

“You did it,” I whispered. Even saying it out loud, it didn’t seem real. “This is the Copperhead money. You did steal from Sid!”

“It’s not that simple,” he began, palms held out to calm me down.

“It’s not? Then tell me what this is. Is this the drug money Sid has been searching for? The money you insisted you didn’t take?”

“Yes.” The word was as soft as the moonlight streaming through the trees, but still struck me like a hammer. “It is.”

“How much is in there?” I asked. The bag was so small. I’d imagined boxes and boxes of cash. “Fifteen grand? Twenty?”

“I didn’t want you to know about it,” he said as he covered up the hole with the crate top, and then a layer of leaves and dirt. “The more you know, the more danger you’re in from Sid. All right? That’s why I lied.”

I hesitated, then nodded. The logic made sense. “Okay.”

Jayce walked back toward the barn and I followed a few steps behind, processing everything. By the time we got back inside, the logic was crumbling in my head.

“Your sister was killed,” I said slowly. “You let her die for that money.”

He rounded on me, face twisted in anger and pain. He pointed a finger at my face. “Don’t say that.”

“But you did,” I insisted. “Sid wanted his money back, and instead of giving it to him, you let the Copperheads kill her.”

“Of course I would have given him the money!” he roared, voice echoing in the barn. His face was red and his eyes glistened with tears. “If I had known he would go after Theresa, I would have handed it over without thinking twice. But Sid never gave me the chance. He went to Theresa’s house and killed her before I could.”

I wanted to believe him. Part of me did. But I was thinking about all the other chances Jayce had had…

“That day on the road,” I said softly. “The first time I ever saw Sid. One of the Copperheads held you in a headlock while Sid walked toward me with the crowbar.”

“When he trashed my truck?” Jayce asked. “I remember.”

“But you didn’t know he was going for the truck.” My voice cracked with emotion. Pain for me, and pain at having to confront him like this. “Later, you told me that you thought he was coming to hurt me. Right?”

Jayce responded only with silence. A tear finally broke from his eye.

“You thought Sid was going to hurt me,” I said, tears blurring my own vision now. “You had the way to stop him. And you said nothing.”

“Peaches…”

“Nothing!” I said, voice trembling. “You thought he was about to kill me and you said nothing. You were going to let him do it!”

Jayce sat on the bed. He looked like a broken, defeated man. “You don’t understand how Sid thinks. If I had caved then, it would have let him know I cared about what happened to you. Then he would have killed you anyway, just to make me pay. At the time, I barely knew you…”

“Oh, well then okay.” I was shouting now, but I didn’t care. “It’s totally cool that he was going to bash my head in with a crowbar when I was just a random girl to you. But now that you’ve been fucking me it makes you sad. Is that it? A girl is only worth saving if you get to stick your dick in her?”

He rose from the bed and took my head in both of his hands. “Charlotte. You don’t understand what I’ve gone through. What that money represents. Please, you have to understand…”

His charm wasn’t working. It was like a spell had been removed and I could see him clearly for the first time. He wasn’t a misunderstood metalworking artist who just wanted to be loved. He was the same selfish biker asshole I’d met in that jail cell weeks ago.

I pulled the roll of bills out of my pocket and hurled it across the room. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Peaches,” he pleaded.

I walked out of the door, and then I was running. I had to get away as quickly as possible.

“Peaches!” he shouted into the night.