Broken

Chapter Thirteen: Sawyer

Fine. Then don't bother talking to me anymore.

Robyn's words had stung, and still stung, every time I thought of the disastrous encounter. Although I knew I deserved it, I was still hoping Robyn would accept that I couldn't give her what she wanted and let it go instead of pushing me away.

My heart dropped into my stomach, as I thought, Like I pushed her away.

I zipped up my coat, turned out my light and started to leave my room. As I left, I suddenly got the eerie feeling that I was being watched, but I shook it off as nerves.

It wasn't until I was outside that the feeling came stronger, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. My eyes darted from side to side. Was somebody watching me? Probably not. But I continued to feel someone's stare as I walked down the path. Jacob was waiting for me, car humming softly.

"Hey," I said to him as I got in.

The seats were ripped, the dashboard was dusty, and trash littered the floor. There was a rainbow colored dice hanging from the rear view mirror, along with a pendant of the Virgin Mary.

I scooted over a few empty, plastic Root Beer bottles with my foot. Jacob leaned down—his face uncomfortably close to my crotch—and plucked them up, throwing them into the back seat.

"Sorry about that," Jake apologized. "The boys destroyed my car."

I shrugged. "No big deal. Let's just get this over with."

Jake straightened and pressed his foot on the gas. The car ran smoothly, unlike Mason's hunk of junk that often sputtered and stopped. Jacob smiled. "She may look like shit, but she runs like a beauty."

"Keith never told me what car. I'm assuming he entrusted that information with you and I'm just supposed to show up," I said bitterly.

"Black 1994 Honda Accord in Anaconda," Jacob said. There was a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead, just as there always was before we did a job. "You've got to snag it and bring it to Keith in Missoula."

Keith was the smartest thief I knew. The other boys called him the best in "the business." He was only twenty-five and was in charge of running one of many chop shops. Nobody knew who Keith worked for, but like he'd told Sawyer on the phone: everybody has a boss. And that included Keith.

This wouldn't be the first '94 Honda Accord I had stolen. It was a common one amongst chop shops. Parts harvested from the car could be worth as much as five grand, whereas a private seller would get two grand for it at the most. Likewise, cars from the 90's had fewer anti-theft devices installed, making them a hell of a lot easier to steal.

I stared out the window as Jacob drove us outside of the Pinesdale city limits and towards Anaconda. For a while, we lapsed into a comfortable silence, until Jacob cleared his throat.

I glanced at him. "What?"

"You mad at Keith or something?" he asked.

"You aren't?" I asked, incredulous. "He keeps walking all over us like we're doormats. If we turn against him, he uses what we love against us."

Jacob regarded me, confused. "I thought love was weakness. That's what you say to me, at least."

Alarmed, I clamped my mouth shut, jaw tightening. Dammit, Sawyer, I thought to myself.