Page 35 of Primal

Yolanda’s phone buzzes, and I see that Zyran has sent another text.

I’m waiting, butterfly.

Fuck you, asshole.

Mmmm, soon, baby. I promise.

I squeeze my legs together, silently chastising myself for being affected by his words. I’m just about to send him another snarky response when movement to my right catches my eye. I look up and see a group of screaming people walking toward the entrance of the gas station. My nosy ass sits up straighter in the seat so I can see what’s happening.

I’m thinking they’re about to fight or something, but then I see Anthony Banks and a few of his artist friends in the midst of the chaos.

My heart speeds up a little bit, and then I get an idea.

What are the odds that I can get Anthony Banks and his crew to come home with me?

Before I have a chance to rethink this stupid decision, I jump out of the car and make my way over. I glare at Yolanda standing in the line inside, and when she catches my eye, she mouths an apology. I wave her away and point toward Anthony. When she gives me a questioning look, I just smile and continue over.

By the time I get to Anthony, the group has already dispersed, satisfied with the autographs and pictures they took with him. Now it’s just him and his friends, Marco Salamanca, an up-and-comingCuban rapper, and Zayden Hudson, an alt-rock singer. The three of them eye me appreciatively as I walk up to them.

“Hey,” Anthony says first, smiling at me.

I return his smile and let my hair down from its bun. Their eyes follow my every movement as I run my fingers through my hair to loosen the curls.

“Hey,” I say seductively. Or, at least, I hope it sounds seductive. I’ve never used this type of voice before, and I honestly want to cringe.

The guys seem to like it, though, because they eye my body appreciatively.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Anthony asks, taking a step closer.

I cock my head timidly and peer up at him from beneath my lashes.

“How did you know I was at MusicFest?” I ask coyly.

He licks his lips and grins wolfishly. “I never forget a pretty face.”

“You saw me there?”

He nods and smiles. “Yeah.”

Could this moment be any more perfect?

I step closer to him until we’re almost chest to chest. He’s so tall that I have to tilt my head back to look at him. While Anthony is very attractive, I find myself longing to stare into Zyran’s deep blue eyes rather than Anthony’s light brown ones.

“Do you think you could help me?” I ask quietly, meekly. I have no idea where this new persona is coming from, but I turn it on full force to make myself as believable as possible.

Anthony rubs a strand of my hair between his fingers. “With what, beautiful?”

***

“Are you fucking insane?” Yolanda yells as she makes her way to my house.

I shrug and watch her phone screen intently, waiting for Zyran to type something. “Possibly.”

“I mean,” she continues like she doesn’t hear me, “you can’t seriously think this is a good idea. That man’s amurderer, Kiara. What are you going to do when Anthony’s body turns up in Lake James tomorrow morning?”

I wave her away dismissively and grip the door handle when she makes a sharp turn. I look over my shoulder out the back window to make sure Anthony’s BMW is still following us. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?”