Page 32 of Savage Salvation

“I don’t want it.” I rise from the chair, moving to step out of Walter’s home office but when he calls my name, I hear the fatherly tone in it, not the lawyerly one, not the business partner I pay him to be.

“Take a few days. Talk it over with Hayden then let me know how you want to move forward.”

The home I grew up in flashes through my mind. Nothing about it feels happy. Even the memories of my mom have been overshadowed by my vile father. “Set it on fire. Throw the asshole in the flames and let every bit burn to the fucking ground. That’s how I want to move forward.”

Walter remains silent, his eyes on the paperwork covering his desk. Since he knew firsthand what a sick fuck my dad was, he’s probably considering it. But he’s too decent (too much the polar opposite of my father) to do such a thing. “The burial arrangements have been taken care of. Hayden already said it, but I want to confirm with you that neither of you want to hold a memorial service.”

“To memorialize what exactly?”

“Gage, he was still your father. You’re allowed to mourn him.”

My fists slam against the hard wooden surface of the desk, but Walter remains motionless. He’s dealt with me enough to know I’d never touch him. But he’s also been around my father long enough to know why the man doesn’t deserve a service. “The only thing I’m mourning is not having the opportunity to beat the shit out of the motherfucker.”

“Very well. No funeral. His burial will take place on Friday. If you change your mind before that time, or even afterwards, let me know.” Walter lifts the pile of papers on his desk, hitting the stack to even them out before dropping them back to the desk.

As I walk to the door, I stop again when he calls my name, but I don’t turn around. I can only contain my anger so long, and Walter is the last person who deserves the wrath that is a result of Sid Hawthorne.

“You have my number. If you need it, use it. Don’t let the evil bastard haunt you from the grave.”

I walk out of Walter’s office and make my way out of his home. He’s right. The son of a bitch is somehow managing to still follow me around, suffocating me. I’d rather jump out of the window than hear his voice in my head for another minute.

The best thing the bastard did was croak so Hayden and I could give his share of the corporation to Walter. Neither of us wanted to touch what was his. We have what our mother left us, and that’s all we need. Walter will step into my father’s position, and maybe eventually, he can rid the corporation from the lingering demon I still feel around me. I can nearly hear a mocking laugh as I imagine him lingering in the shadows. But the joke’s on him. I never wanted to be a part of the company, of his legacy. I just wanted to keep what he wished he had, what he will never get his hands on now—full control over the Hawthorne legacy.

The notion gives me satisfaction, but once again, it’s not enough. When will it ever be enough? Will anything ever be enough? There were moments this morning when Kinsley’s naked body was entangled with mine, when I was inside her, when she fell asleep with me, where I thought she could be. But I’m no closer to capturing her than I am to expelling my father’s demon from my soul. And I fear either quest will be the death of me.

24

Kinsley

A nap on the ride home would have been a wise choice because I’m having a really hard time keeping my eyes open right now. Johnny said I could take the evening off, but I wanted to get at least a half day of pay in, and Sundays aren’t usually busy. Today, I wish it was busy if only to keep me awake. Instead, I’m sitting on the barstool behind the counter, my chin propped on my hand as my heavy eyes fight to stay open. I finally give in, knowing I’ll hear the bell chime if someone walks in, but I must’ve dozed completely off because I’m suddenly aware of someone being behind me as I feel fingertips brush along my neck.

Instantly, my eyes spring open as I jump off the stool, and shove away from the solid force standing there, holding me from escaping. Of freakin’ course. Gage.

My heart pounds, but I actually feel relief at the sight of him. He’s a tyrant, but I know what to expect from him rather than some crazy stranger sneaking up on me while I’m asleep.

“You’re drooling.” He grins, stepping in front of me to loop an arm around my lower back, then pulls me flush against his solid body. That stupid fuckin’ scent fills my nose, all its mouthwatering glory surrounding me.

On second thought, I wish it had been a deranged murderer coming to assassinate me in my sleep. My arm comes up, swiping at my dry chin. “I was not.”

Shoving him away does little as he shifts forward, his arm remaining around my lower back, his other arm lifts, his thumb trails from my lip down my chin. “No, but I’d love to see my come dripping from your mouth,” his hand drops between us, his hand swiping over me. “Or from your lips again.”

“I’d love to stab you again.”

His smirking lips feather over my mouth. “A little blood doesn’t bother me.”

“Nothing bothers you,” I breathe, using every ounce I can muster up to shove him away. And thankfully, he releases me. Only I don’t like the look on his face. The taunting asshat expression has slipped from his face, revealing something that makes him look almost human, his eyes focused past me to the back of the store.

“Why are you here, Gage? I’m gonna end up getting fired if you keep this up.” Surely Johnny will give me a little leeway, but Gage doesn’t need to know that.

“Let’s grab something to eat.”

“What?” Why do I bother trying to understand what’s going on in his head? “You want me to go get something to eat with you? After you’ve spent the better part of your life making mine miserable, you want me to go have supper with you?”

“Yeah.” Is all he replies.

“How about RD’s?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, wait. No. We’d better not. There’s an asshole who dumps food over customers who’re just sitting there trying to enjoy their damn meal. But maybe some other time. Like never.”

I go to step away as he reaches for me. Grasping my hand in his, he entwines his fingers with mine. The move is so natural, so fast, that I stand silently, staring to him as he says, “Please.”