Drop Dead Gorgeous (Return to Fear Street Book 3)

I don’t even remember where I dropped her off. And, of course, I was late to the car wash.

My mouth felt swollen and dry. I could still taste her lips on mine. And my brain kept skipping around, like it was playing hopscotch or something.

I squinted hard and gritted my teeth, trying to steady myself, trying to get back to normal. But my racing heartbeat wouldn’t let me. And I kept picturing that beautiful girl—a girl I didn’t even know—and how hungry she was for me.

Hungry. That’s definitely the word.

And I had to smile when I thought about how easy it was to win the bet with Liam and Zane. Because Morgan was obviously nuts about me. Too late for them. They never stood a chance.

I pulled behind the neon Klean Kar sign at the front. I don’t know why Dewey, the owner, decided to spell clean and car with Ks. I think about it every time I arrive. I guess it’s an attention getter.

Dewey is an okay guy, except if you’re late. So I knew he’d be steamed at me and I’d hear about it. Several excuses flashed through my mind, but none of them sounded believable to me.

My brain was still spinning. I felt another chill when I remembered Morgan’s hands on the back of my neck, pulling me toward her, holding me so tight I couldn’t move, holding me for that endless kiss.

I’d seen a magician on TV hypnotize some people. And when he finally let them come out of it, they were all groggy and weird. And that’s just what I felt like. Weird. Off, somehow.

I cut the engine and pocketed the keys and stepped unsteadily out of the car. A blue SUV had just come through the wash, but I didn’t see anyone there to hand-dry it.

Where was Dewey?

Then I saw a tall, strange-looking dude walking across the lot toward me. He had short white-blond hair spiked up in a strip in the middle of his head. And as he came close, I could see that his eyes were like silver and trained hard on me.

He was ripped, big chest, big biceps. Dressed like a tough guy in a tight, black, sleeveless shirt, black jeans tucked into tall boots. The heels of the boots made loud bumps on the pavement as he made his way toward me with slow, steady strides.

“Hey,” I said.

I suddenly felt a little afraid. I guess it was the weird silver eyes. I mean, who has eyes with practically no color at all? A robot?

I looked for Dewey. But there was no sign of him. The blue SUV pulled away, and the dude and I were alone now.

“My name is Cal,” he said, and to my surprise, he had a normal, smooth voice. “We’ve never met. I’m Delia’s stepbrother.”

Huh? Delia never mentioned a stepbrother.

“Oh. Hi,” I said. “I’m Rich. Everyone calls me Winks.”

He nodded. The sunlight gleamed off his spiky hair. “I know. I have something for you, Winks.”

Before I could react, he shot his right hand forward—and landed his fist hard in the pit of my stomach.

I made an ooof sound as the breath poured out of me. And then the pain shot up from my belly, up to my arms, my head. And I threw my arms around myself and doubled over, groaning, choking, gasping for breath.

When I finally straightened up, he had the power hose in his hands.

“Hey, wait—” My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Please—”

The blast of water from the hose sent me stumbling backward. I tried to shield myself with both arms, but the spray from the hose was powerful enough to send me sprawling.

“Stop! Please—” I pleaded.

But he moved forward, moved with me, keeping the blast of water on my chest. Until I stumbled into the car wash.

I toppled into one wall, and the brushes started up, battering me, shoving me hard from side to side. I was helpless. Stumbling. I raised my hands to shield my face. And then I was choking on soapsuds.

“Please— Wait—”

One of the brushes scraped my side. My clothes were drenched. The soap bubbled around me. I frantically struggled to wipe burning suds from my eyes.

Oh, help.

The power brushes whirred and tore at my shirt. I heard a rush of air. The cycle changed, and steaming hot water sprayed down from above. The shock took my breath away. I began to choke and gag.

“Can’t breathe. Hey—I can’t breathe.”

I felt a hand grasp the soaked shoulder of my shirt. Cal dragged me out. Pushed me hard against the wall at the side of the building. I hunched against the concrete, brushing suds from my face, struggling to catch my breath.

“That was for Delia,” Cal said, calm as a clam, as if we were just having a quiet conversation. “Like I said, she’s my stepsister, and you’d better start treating her right.”

“But I—”

Cal pushed me back against the wall with one fist. His silvery eyes glared into mine. “She’s been through a lot, man. You’ve got to be careful with her. I was there at school to pick her up. I saw you drive off with that redheaded girl.”

“Whoa. Listen—” I didn’t know what I was going to say to the guy. I just knew I had to protest.

Cal raised a finger and pointed it at me. “This was a warning.”

I took a deep breath and finally found my voice. “Are you crazy?” I cried. “You attacked me? Now you’re threatening me? Are you totally crazy?”

He didn’t answer. Just gave me one more push against the wall. “Stay away from that new girl,” he murmured through his teeth. Then he turned and stomped away.

I stood there, soaked and shivering. My stomach ached from the punch he threw. My eyes burned from the soapsuds.

I’ve got to break up with Delia, I decided. Her stepbrother is nuts. And dangerous. And out of control.

I heard my name being shouted. I turned and saw Dewey calling to me. How long had he been shouting?

I shook water off as I forced myself away from the wall and headed toward Dewey, who was outside the front office. My sneakers squished across the pavement. I brushed my wet hair back off my forehead.

Dewey is a big, brawny guy who wears red-and-black flannel shirts and denim bib overalls that make him look like a lumberjack. He has a lumberjack beard, too, black and thick, and long enough to cover his face and neck.

He did not look pleased. I could see his angry scowl even through his beard. “Winks—why are you soaking wet?”

“Did you see that guy?” I pointed toward the street.

“No. I was in back.”

“That guy just came up and beat the crap out of me.”

Dewey eyed me skeptically. “How come?”

“Beats me, Dewey. Seriously.”

“Well, I have to shut down,” he said, rubbing his beard. “You wrecked the whole mechanism.”

“Huh?” I gasped. “It wasn’t my fault. I—”

“You smashed everything up, Winks. I’ve got to shut down till I can get it fixed.”

“But, Dewey—” I pleaded. “The guy threw me in there. You can’t blame me.”

“Who else am I going to blame?” Dewey didn’t raise his voice, but he couldn’t hide his anger. “Listen, Winks. You came late to work and then you wrecked the whole car wash. What would you suggest I do?”

“Give me another chance?”

“I don’t think so. I think I have to fire you.”

I couldn’t think of a reply. Finally, I just nodded.

“I’ll give you a check for last week,” Dewey said. He turned and started into the office. “Don’t come in the office. You’ll get everything wet.”

So I waited outside for him, hugging myself to stop the shivers and thinking, The next time I see Cal, I’m going to tear him apart.