Страница 173 из 349
I watch her climb the stairs and turn toward the porch railing, Sarah coming outside to meet her. The two of them murmur together, their heads close, their camaraderie a fucking uncomfortable sight.
The last thing Keira needs is a master manipulator at her side. They could take down hell if they teamed up. And I sure as shit don’t want that happening on my watch.
I leap the fence and stride to the house. They stop chatting as I approach, the cease of their Secret Squirrel conversation raising the hair on the back of my neck.
“We haven’t finished talking, Keira.”
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even budge an inch to acknowledge my comment.
“I made sandwiches,” Sarah offers. “Go inside and start eating without us. We’ll join you soon.”
I don’t tear my gaze from Keira, but she doesn’t glance my way. She deliberately refuses, too busy holding the railing in a white-knuckle grip as she glares into the distance.
“Soon,” I repeat in warning. “We don’t have time to fuck around.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “We’ll be there when we’re ready.”
It’s a subtle fuck you, and I have no choice but to listen.
Instead of planting my feet like my ego demands, I act like a scolded puppy and slink inside to watch them from the other side of the glass-paneled door.
“Are they coming in?” Hunt mutters from his seat at the table.
I close my eyes for the briefest second, begging the holy heavens for strength while I’m stuck inside with this unforgiving motherfucker who could end our ceasefire at any moment. “Not until they’ve a
“Is Keira okay?”
I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“She looked fine a few minutes ago when you were groping her against the fence. What did you do to fuck it up?”
I clench my teeth and swing around to swipe my beer off the table, throwing back gulps like I’m dying of dehydration. Hunt’s trying to make me snap, and I refuse. I’m not going to bite. Not until the alcohol numbs the bruises I already have to make way for the new ones he wants to give me.
I empty the can and retrieve another from the fridge. I waste time tidying up the mess Sarah made while creating the pile of sandwiches on the table. I fuck around, trying to play it cool while Sarah taunts me through the glass, frowning at me as she speaks.
I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can tell it’s filled with a
“Hunt, you better get control of your girl.” I grip the counter and mentally count out my frustration. “She’s starting to piss me off.”
He scoffs. “Bite me. You two were best buddies when we arrived. Don’t come crying to me now.”
I’m still gripping the counter ten minutes later when Sarah walks inside, leaving Keira on the porch.
“What’s going on?” Hunt pushes to his feet. “How is she?”
Sarah grabs one of the empty plates stacked on the table and begins grabbing sandwiches from the platter. “She’s a
I see red. My focus fucking glazes with anger. “Those are your words, not hers. She knows I’m not treating her like a fucking kid. Stop filling her head with bullshit.”
“Then stop telling her what she can and can’t do.” She places down the plate piled with food and walks into the kitchen, bypassing my rage-filled position by the counter to open the cutlery drawer. “You’ll never win this fight if you treat her like she’s fragile.”
I slam my palm down on the counter. “Goddamn it, she’s not like you.” My shoulders convulse with my labored breathing. “Killing someone will fuck with her head for the rest of her life.”
“It’s not your choice to make.”
“It’s not yours either. You’ve got no right to weigh in on this.”
“I haven’t done a damn thing. All I’m doing is listening to her vent.” She retrieves a knife and slams the drawer shut.
“What the hell is that for?”
She scowls. “To cut my sandwiches. Is that okay, your highness?”
“Just as long as you’re not using it to stab her in the back again.”
Her lip curls as she stomps to the table. “I never stabbed her in the back, Decker. I said a few things I shouldn’t have, but I’ve apologized, and she’s been decent enough to forgive me. So I’m going to stay out there and chat things out while she’s willing.”
She holds the knife in a tight grip and picks up her filled plate. “Can I have the car keys?” She turns her focus to her fiancé. “I’m going to see if any of the clothes I packed will fit her. She can’t keep wearing that oversized shirt and shorts.”
“Yeah.” He pulls a fob from his pocket and lobs it toward her. “If she doesn’t find anything suitable, I can go for a drive.”
“Thanks, babe.” She turns on her heel and heads for the door, shooting me one last taunting glare before she walks outside and leads Keira from the porch.
I miss the sight of my blue-eyed goddess as soon as she’s out of view.
I don’t know how to fix this shit. Not the issue of her wanting to walk through hell u
There are no easy options. No fucking path of least resistance.
There’s only struggle and torment.
“Did Richard put hands on her?” Hunt murmurs.
I don’t deny the mental images assailing me. I let the picture of Richard’s hands on Keira take over in the hopes it will increase my understanding of her need to face him on her own.
But it doesn’t.
No matter what I think, what I do, I can’t stand the thought of her anywhere near him.
“Yeah.” I stalk to the table and snatch a sandwich from the pile.
“How did they keep it a secret? I should’ve noticed.”
“You weren’t around back then.”
“Back when?” His eyes narrow.
“When she was fourteen.” I take a bite of bread and chew as I watch the avalanche of reality bear down on him.
His jaw sets. His shoulders straighten. “Fourteen?” He raises his voice. “Fucking fourteen?” He shoves back from the table, his chair clattering to the floor. “I don’t fucking blame her for ru
“She didn’t. She paid someone to do it.”
He begins to pace, stalking back and forth. “Who?”
“The same asshole who shot up the restaurant.”
He stops and swings around to meet my gaze, his face a mask of confusion. “She paid someone to shoot up my engagement party?”
“No. She paid someone to take out Richard, then backed out of the contract. Now the motherfucker is blackmailing her.”
“Who?” he repeats. “How do I find this fucker?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out. Hopefully before Torian gets his hands around my neck.” I hold his gaze, my eyes pleading. “If I don’t get the chance, I need you to promise to take care of him for me.”
“I’m not doing shit for you.” He continues pacing. “But I’ll do it for her.”
“Semantics, asshole.” I take another snap of sandwich, not tasting the food as I swallow.
“No, not semantics. You don’t deserve a damn thing from me, you self-righteous prick.”
Self-righteous?
Self-fucking-righteous?
I return to the regular broadcast of biting my tongue, my anxiety building the longer Keira remains out of view. I slump into a seat and fill my gut despite the lack of hunger.
I don’t want to eat at a time like this. I doubt I’ll ever regain my appetite, but fuel is a necessary commodity. Or it will be once we sort out a plan.