Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"No." Harry didn't look at me as I spoke, so I repeated myself. "No."

More silence. Another deafening acceleration of the engine.

"I'm not going to your house, Harry." I was violently shaking my head. Grazing my hand along the side door, I located the lock button and unlocked the car. Harry didn't even look at me as he reached over to the buttons on his own side to re-lock it. My mouth fell open in indignation. "Harry, what the fuck!"

I unlocked it again.

Just for him to promptly lock it once more.

For a few seconds, it was just us going back and forth in a vicious cycle from our respective sides of the car.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

"What?" he growled, turning so abruptly that I flinched. "You gonna throw yourself out onto the fucking road when I'm going 80 miles an hour?" His eyes never left mine as he reached over to unlock the doors. "Be my fucking guest then."

I stared at him for a beat before shrinking back in my seat with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

Shit. He's right.

"Are you taking me to your place so that you can kill me?" I asked bluntly.

Harry whirled his head in my direction, scoffing incredulously. "Why the fuck would I kill you?" His eyes roamed my face, the cigarette between his teeth wearing thin. I watched as a few pieces of ash fell onto his lap. "Did you hit your fucking head or something?"

"You're kidnapping me."

"Jesus, fuck. I'm not–" Harry shifted in his seat, muttering under his breath, and running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm not kidnapping you. And I'm not about to fucking kill you either. I'm trying to make sure you don't die tonight." He glanced once at the lock on the side door. "Though you seem to have quite the fucking death wish anyway."

"Why can't you take me home?" He wasn't wrong about the death wish. It honestly seemed better than this current scenario.

His eyes flashed with something I couldn't pick up on. He hesitated briefly before saying, "If I take you home, you will be followed."

"Followed?" The panic and nausea were back. "What do you mean followed? By who? What would they do? Kill me? Take me?" My breathing had gone erratic. "What did I do? What if they come to your place–"

"They can't," he said curtly. He was angry. His words were clipped, and his fingers had tightened around the steering wheel again. "Which is why I'm taking you to my fucking place"

Harry opened the window a fraction and flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window. He immediately reached for another one from the carton. I watched, somewhat dazed, as he moved his gun to the side to grab the lighter.

My eyes lingered on it a beat too long.

"Don't even fucking think about it."

I snapped my gaze up to his, furrowing my brows. "What? Think about what?"

Harry wasn't looking at me as he responded, "You touch that gun and you will be dead."

"Touch the...?" I balked at the thought. "You think I want to fucking touch that thing? I'd end up killing myself."