See No Evil

Stone remains dead silent as she leads me by the hand into the Oakley woods. With every leisured step she takes, my heart thumps madly in my chest, remembering the last time I took a walk down this path. But last time, it was under the light of a full moon with my best friend guiding me through the vast area, not beneath the sun’s beaming rays accompanied by the girl I was ordered to ruin.

I have no idea why Stone came over to Linc’s this afternoon, but I’m too fucking grateful for having her this close to even care that she’s leading me into the last place I want to be.

I entwine my fingers in hers, never wanting to let go, as she walks us further into the wooded area. We walk deeper and deeper, until the mansion behind us is far from view, ensuring we are surrounded only by large oak trees and the clear blue sky above us.

“Stone?” I mutter behind her, hoping she doesn’t take us too far in.

Who knows what she’ll find if she keeps going farther. I sure as hell haven’t been back to check if we did a proper job that night. Perhaps one of the guys paid a visit to the macabre place since then, just to be sure we didn’t fuck up and leave clues of our guilt. If I had to wager on it, my money is on Easton. He’s never been one to leave loose ends.

“Stone?” I repeat again when all I get is radio silence from her.

“I don’t want to hear another peep out of you, quarterback. Not until I say so,” she orders, her voice cold as steel and just as punishing.

I keep my head down like a scolded child but do as she says. It’s clear that, even though Stone has come to see me, she’s still pissed as all hell. The only thing that comforts me is the way she keeps hold of my hand, squeezing it from time to time, letting me run my thumb lightly over hers. I’m still focusing on the little patch of skin she’s allowing me to touch, almost crashing into her when she begins to slow her steps. She takes one long look around before giving me a curt nod to confirm she’s found her spot.

“This will do nicely,” she says, letting go of my hand to take the book bag off her shoulders.

My frown deepens as I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to hide the fact that my hand feels naked without hers. I keep rooted in place as she goes to her haunches and begins to take some stuff out of her bag.

“Stone?”

“I said zip it.”

I look up at the heavens to give me the fortitude to keep silent, but my confusion only heightens as I watch her throw an old blanket over the cold grass.

“Sit,” she orders, her head tilting up at me, commanding me to do as she says.

I’m tempted to call her out on her bossy behavior, but I doubt my playful teasing will change her stern disposition. So instead, I sit down on the edge of the blanket, the spiky, hard grass biting into my butt cheeks, even through the blanket and my thin, gray sweat pants. If I knew we were going to have a tête-à-tête in the woods, I would have worn jeans and spared my ass some grief.

Stone sits cross-legged just a few inches in front of me, placing her bag in between the hollow of her bare thighs. While she has her head bent down, rummaging through it, I take the opportunity to just look at her. She’s not in her usual in-your-face gear today. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, it looks like she just came from church, which is silly since I know everything there is to know about Stone, and going to Sunday Mass isn’t on her weekly to-do list.

She still looks good, though. More than good. In a simple, sleeveless, white turtleneck, and knee-length, black skirt and boots, Stone continues to be the sexiest woman I have ever laid eyes on.

Some people say that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. This couldn’t be truer for me when it comes to Stone.

Fu

I’m probably the only lucky bastard who can say I know all her facets. The world may know the fierce brat who doesn’t take shit from anyone, but I saw the vulnerable, scared girl who didn’t want to give her heart away. I held her in my embrace, where I would have kept her if The Society hadn’t fucked everything up.

After me, I wonder who will earn the privilege to hold her. To dry her eyes. To kiss her lips. Whoever he is, I’ll surely hate him with every fiber of my being. I will hate the man who wins her heart when I lost it so ruthlessly.

Stone’s jet-black hair is all over her face as she continues to ransack through her bag. I’m about to take advantage of her absentmindedness and touch a fallen strand, when she finally pulls out a small bottle of tequila, tilting her head back up to face me once more.

The minute my eyes see her beloved Jose Cuervo in her hands, a chill runs through my bones. My sudden apprehension begins to yell at me to get myself up and haul ass out of here as fast as I can. Even though I might miss the hell out of Stone, I know all too well what that bottle signifies.

As they say, loose lips sink ships, and with the state of my mournful heart, I’m not sure I won’t blabber everything out and tell her what she wants to know. Not the best circumstances to be in, considering it’s not only my frail heart in jeopardy but hers, too, if I tell her the truth.

She might hate me now for thinking I stole her only shot at leaving Asheville, but if she knew the real reason behind her downfall, I doubt her hate would be the only thing I’d get in return for such a confession. I’m thinking some steel cuffs and iron bars would be part of my immediate future.

“No,” I state, already pushing myself up from the ground.

But Stone is having none of it, so she grabs one of my wrists to keep me still while shaking her head disapprovingly, and retorts, “Yes. You are going to sit down and do exactly as I say, quarterback. You’re not in a position to negotiate.”

“Nuh-uh. Not happening. I don’t want to play this game with you.” I shake my head profusely.

“Yes, you do. If you want me here, you’ll play. And if you leave, I won’t be coming back. Ever.”

I crack my knuckles and press my tongue to the side of my cheek, conflicted with the fact that the damn brat is playing hardball. I do want her here, and the idea of not ever seeing her again just breaks my heart further.

These past two weeks without her have been hell—total and utter hell. It’s been the little things that have been driving me up the wall the most. Unable to see her glorious face up close, or smell her perfume. Unable to caress her cheek, or hear her voice. She must know that the distance has been killing me, and now she wants to play one of her games just to torture me further. I’m not sure who’s squeezing my balls tighter—The Society or Stone.

“Same rules as before,” she begins after making sure that I’m not going anywhere. “I’ll ask a question, and you’ll tell me the truth. If not, then you either drink or strip.”

“I don’t want to play by your rules anymore, Stone. I’m tired of playing games.”

“Okay, then I’ll do you one better. For every truth you tell me, then I’ll be the one who strips.”

My cock immediately claps and nods madly, confirming that he definitely wants to play. The fucker doesn’t even see the trap she’s setting for him. All he heard was Stone getting naked in front of him, and fuck the consequences.