Blacklisted by Gena Showalter Page A

she never answered. I tried again. Still nothing. I didn’t leave a message on her voicemail because I didn’t want her parents overhearing.
    I handed the phone back to Erik. I’d call her again in the morning, tell her that I had the car, and then meet her somewhere and give it back. Although, how I’d explain that to my parents, I didn’t know.
    â€œYou never answered my question,” I said to Erik. “How are you going to get home?”
    â€œI’ll walk,” was his unconcerned response.
    â€œUh, that’s going to be quite a hike.”
    â€œI know, but the exercise will do me some good.”
    He didn’t need any more exercise. He was already stacked with muscle, his tanned skin stretched tight over hard steel. “You told me you were twenty years old,” I said, peering at him through the thick shield of my lashes.
    â€œYeah. So?”
    With the pain gone, my brain kicked into gear. “How’d you manage to get back into school? I’m pretty sure I know why, I just can’t figure out how.”
    He shrugged, the action stiff. The line of his jaw ticked. In anger? In irritation? Both? “The more you know about me, Camille, the more danger you’ll be placed in. Stop asking questions.”
    Danger. Just the word sent my nervous system into a frenzy. Heated blood rushed through my veins and caused all of my pulse points to flutter erratically. “Is that guy with the half-mask going to come after me?”
    Erik paused long enough to make me squirm. Then he said, “No. I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
    He sounded confident.
    My eyes widened in horror. “Are you going to murder him?” That was the only way to give me a hundred-percent guarantee.
    â€œNo, I’m not going to murder him. Just shut up and trust me, all right.”
    That pacified me somewhat, but could I place my trust in someone who ignored the law and sold drugs? Someone who willingly peddled death to humans? Foolishly, I wanted to. Maybe because I was having a hard time reconciling the truth of what Erik was with the fantasy I’d built in my mind.
    If he hadn’t doctored me so well tonight, I could have written him off completely. Maybe.
    â€œYou can’t seriously expect me to trust you, Erik.” I only wished I meant the words wholeheartedly. “How do you know that man isn’t going to come after me?”
    â€œCamille.” He sighed.
    â€œErik. I need to know.”
    He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you always this curious?”
    â€œWhen it involves my life, yes.”
    â€œAs you probably guessed, I’m working for him. He needs me and he knows it, so he won’t want to piss me off.”
    I gazed down at my boots. Droplets of blood had dried on the tips. “And hurting me will piss you off?”
    A pause, another sigh. “Yeah.”
    For some reason, that soothed me as I’d needed and I lapsed into silence. And, God help me, I liked, really liked, that Erik was willing to fight for me. For your life, dummy. Not your affections. He probably doesn’t want your death on his conscience—or his record .
    We passed the towering gate that surrounded my neighborhood. The houses that next came into view were medium-size, average really, but well-maintained. Made of polished silver rocks with tin rooftops, they were nearly identical. I’d lived here my entire life, and the familiarity was both comforting and terrifying.
    â€œUh, Camille,” Erik said suddenly.
    The hard catch in his voice was like a punch in the stomach, jarring, painful. Oh no. “What?”
    â€œWe’re being followed.”
    â€œWhat!”
    â€œLook behind us.”
    I twisted in my seat and peered out the back window. There were two black sedans lined up inches from our bumper, not even trying to remain hidden. Their windows were so dark I couldn’t see inside. “Who is it?”
    â€œWho