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Most importantly, was she lying to me? Wolf sure didn’t seem to think so.
Wolf.
I didn’t know if something happened between them. I didn’t know a lot of things, but I had been drunk last night, and things with Wolf had gotten out of hand. I’d been sick about it. Sick enough to come over here and ask her about that of all things.
Why did you?
My stomach tightened, clenched to fucking hell. This girl was playing me, and I was letting her.
Fucking obsessed.
Sloane had a leg out of the sheets, golden, luscious. Her ass was outlined by the silk, and I wanted to rip it off her and shove my cock inside her. I was hard for her, even now, and that made her so dangerous. I didn’t know a damn thing about her.
But I wanted her.
Being inside her… being close to her only reminded me of how it’d been before I’d left. She maddened me, drove me crazy, and her sassy-ass mouth only made me want her more.
She’s playing you.
Shaking, I got up. This, what had happened here in her bed, should have been some kind of fucked-up triumph. It should have been me showing what I could do to her.
“You’re still in my fucking head,” she’d said, and what I’d so obviously done this morning showed her place in mine. She was tearing my whole world apart. Helen of Troy caused less bullshit.
I scrubbed my face, getting up. I put my clothes on, then made my way downstairs. Her front door was still broken, something I’d done.
Get the fuck out of here.
I could. I should, but I was here. I was in the Sloane household, and maybe something here might tell me something. It’d tell me who Sloane was, she and her brother. It’d let me know something about my grandfather. He’d paid for this house, all this his stuff.
I told myself that was what I was doing, searching through mail and other things to find out dirt about my grandfather. I needed to dig into the devil’s lair, and anything I found out about Sloane herself was just a byproduct. I told myself this. She was secondary.
But that didn’t feel like the case as I searched, my hands flying through mail and shoving shit around. A desperation backed me, opening and closing cabinets and drawers. I just kept hearing words in my head, her words playing back. She said she’d been worried about me, me and my family.
Swallowing, I ended up in the kitchen, forcing shit open. I wasn’t being careful at all, messing shit around and making too much noise.
“Do you normally go through people’s private things, grandson?”
I stiffened, my back ramrod straight. I whipped around, and my gaze clashed with an old man.
Grandpa Prinze was in a suit, his fingers laced and sitting at the Sloane kids’ kitchen island. He had a curious look about him as he stared at me, and I instinctually cut my gaze across the room. There was a set of kitchen knives readily available, a meat tenderizer.
I studied them both, but Grandfather’s smirk stole my attention.
“So ready to try again, my boy?” He placed a hand in the direction of the knives. “Please. Since you’re so obviously ready to kill me.”
I was ready to kill him. I was ready to do what I had to do.
I’d done it once, hadn’t I? At least, I thought I had.
My grandfather found my lack of action amusing. Chuckling, he tilted his head. “I thought so.”
“Well, don’t think shit,” I growled, my voice low for some reason. I didn’t know why I cared if Sloane knew this conversation was happening. Especially if she was in on whatever this shit was with my grandfather. I stood tall. “And how are you alive?”
I placed the poison in his tea myself, watched him drink it. The poison should have took and quickly. Especially with his age.
He smiled, almost coy about it. “You mean, how did your last attempt on my life fail so poorly?” His hands opened. “You always check the body, son. What’s the point in starting the job unless you’re going to finish it?”
He said it like a seasoned pro, like this wasn’t his first rodeo with death, murder.
