Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Ava Williams," Harry said quietly. Tearing my eyes away from the darkness outside, I turned to look at him. It was the first thing he'd said in almost ten minutes. "Remember that you're Ava Williams."

"Why?" I asked a little timidly. The panic from earlier hadn't exactly toned down, mainly started internalizing itself in nervous trembles and breaths. "I mean, I know why, but... are those–those guys going to be there? From the other night?"

Harry didn't look at me. We had pulled onto a dirt road a few minutes back. It was too dark for me to tell where we were, but it seemed like there was nothing around. Only trees and the occasional sign that I wasn't able to read. If I was about to get murdered, this was the perfect place for it to happen.

"They might be," he muttered, giving a half-shrug of his shoulder. "I don't know. Won't know until we get there."

My stomach turned over, nausea barreling up into my throat. "But I thought they were the ones trying to kill me?" The words cracked upon deliverance. My hand shot back up to my neck, thumb running circles over my skin. "Will they do it there?"

It didn't help my nerves any that Harry hesitated. "I won't let them."

Not the deafening 'no' that I had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. Harry flicked on his high beams, illuminating the clouds of dirt coming up from under his tires. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing and no one around us. Just the darkness we were driving into.

"Is there anything else I need to know?" My voice was raw with anxiety. It sounded weak. Almost fragile. Whatever confidence I'd held before was long gone.

"We met at the tattoo parlour," Harry said, his voice low. He didn't sound angry anymore but... closed off. As if he was on edge as well. "You work there as a receptionist."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, adding my new fake employment to the mental list of growing lies to remember. "Why?"

"Because you don't want them to know your real job, but it won't be believable if you say you're unemployed."

I swallowed, nodding slowly. "You said these people are associates of yours though... won't they know if I don't actually work there?"

"I created a file for you," Harry's voice was clipped. "Under the name Ava Williams, post-dating it last year. It's believable enough. I'll just say you don't work a lot."

The rising bile in my throat prevented me from answering. Silence settled again between the two of us, save for the soft click of Harry's lighter as he lit another cigarette. My other mental tally – the one that kept track of how many he smoked when he was with me – ticked up to five. Five fucking cigarettes since the time I'd come home and found him in my apartment.

He glanced over at me, catching my eye as I stared at him.

"We're almost there," his voice was low. Had been wrapped with that lethal calmness once more.

"My cat," I blurted.

Harry irritatingly furrowed his brows as he abruptly turned the car right, pulling into something that looked like a driveway. "What the fuck are you on about now?"

"She needs–" The words lodged in my throat as I realized the car was slowing. We'd arrived at wherever the fuck we were headed. "Just... if I die, can you make sure she goes to my friend Olivia? Nobody else has a key to my apartment and since you've somehow been able to fucking get in–"

"Christ, you're dramatic," Harry mumbled, quickening the pace at which he smoked his cigarette as he put the car in park. "You're not gonna fucking die. You'll be back to your stupid cat when we're done." His jaw flexed as he exhaled a drag of the cigarette, smoke curling around his teeth as he added, "Don't you have anything better to be fucking worried about?"