Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
He’s tall, broad. Long, dirty-blond hair. Dressed like a surfer with a deep, golden tan. He grins at me with perfectly straight, white teeth.
“Hey, Casey,” he says, holding up a hand. “Been a while.”
“Dustin? Why are you here?”
“My boss wants to speak with you.”
I can’t move. I can’t think.
I know Dustin through Shane. Hell, everyone in Atlantic City knows Dustin.
He’s Tony Vetch’s right-hand man.
“When?” I ask. How did Tony know I was here? How did he find me? Although it could’ve have been hard—tons of people saw me storm out of the Sunrise, and there aren’t many places I’d go.
“Right now,” Dustin says. “If you’re up for it.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t worry. He’s not here to hurt you.” Another disarming smile, but this one tinged with a strange, creepy implication.
“I’m not ready. I mean—”
What I want to say is, I can’t meet with the man that nearly killed me than ran away from the scene like a coward. Instead, I stutter, barely able to form a coherent sentence.
Dustin interrupts before I can get my thoughts in order. “Don’t worry about that. He’s coming up the hall right now.”
Chapter 33
Casey
Tony Vetch sits on Roxie’s couch like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You sure you’re okay?” Roxie whispers in my ear. Dustin remains near the front door, waiting for her.
“It’s fine,” I say, giving her a hollow smile, because I’m afraid of what Tony might do if I make a scene. He only watches, not smiling.
Roxie heads into the hall with Dustin, pausing to squeeze my arm on the way out, leaving me alone.
Tony crosses his legs. He leans back, looking at ease. “Take a seat. I’m not here to hurt you.”
I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to get anywhere near him. “I’m fine here, thanks.”
He tilts his head. “You really weren’t faking it, were you? Back there on the beach.”
“I don’t—” Then I remember. “No, I wasn’t faking it. I really didn’t know who you were.”
“But you do now.”
What should I say? Pretend like Adler never told me the truth? That I don’t know he’s the man that was driving the night I got hit by that car? Anger swells in me, a deep, black anger. This man ruined my life—he nearly killed me.
I’m in constant pain before of him and I will be until the day I die.
“Yes, I know what you did.”
He nods to himself. “I should’ve left it alone. If I hadn’t gotten involved—well, can’t change things now.”
“What do you want from me? I don’t want to be some game piece you and Adler move around a board.”
“It must feel that way to you. Adler’s very good at it, isn’t he? I never had that talent.”
“If you want me to feel sorry for you, that won’t happen. You almost killed me. You ran from the scene.”
His eyebrows raise. “Is that what Adler said?”
For a moment I doubt myself. “Enough with the lies. Don’t sit here and tell me actually it was Adler driving and you’re the one that saved me.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.” He watches me for a long moment. My heart’s racing and my knees are killing me. I steady myself against the kitchen island, barely able to catch my breath. Why am I putting myself through this? Why in the hell am I standing here when all I want to do is run?
But morbid fascination keeps me pegged to where I’m standing. I want to know what Tony’s about to say—because that accident is like a black spot in the middle of my life.
There’s before I got hit by a car and the after. The in-between’s a mess of blurry, half-formed images and lots and lots of pain.
I want to know what happened so badly I’m willing to put myself through this.
Those weeks in the hospital were a nightmare. The months after were arguably worse. And here is the man responsible for all that, casually sitting on my best friend’s couch about to explain to me how I’ve got it all wrong.
I should run screaming. I should try to hurt him.
Instead, I can’t move.
“I told Adler to help you,” Tony says, staring into my face. “He stayed at the scene because we both knew he could get himself out of trouble. Which is exactly what happened. He told a story and the cops believed it because he’s Adler Costa, they get paid to believe his stories. But if that were me on the pavement with you? There’s no way I would’ve remained a free man.”
“How?” I croak. I barely recognize my own voice. “How did it happen?”
Tony looks away. Is that shame in his expression? No, that can’t be right, a man like Tony Vetch doesn’t feel a petty little emotion like shame.
“It was dark. We were having an argument about the hotel. We’d purchased this old place down the boardwalk and were going to renovate—”