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He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt that’s probably a size too small; either that, or it’s designed specifically to highlight his muscular torso. My eyes are drawn immediately to his forearms, searching out the delicate daisy on such a tough man. He has on jeans, too. I didn’t even think he owned a pair.
And sneakers. Dotted with dirt and something suspiciously like blood, Burns has on white sneakers.
He has a black bag hanging loosely from one hand. Whatever he has inside doesn’t look too heavy, and there’s something pencil-like pushing against the top of the plastic, near the handle.
“Give me a second and you’ll see.”
Walking over to Carter, Burns kicks him.
Carter groans.
I stare.
Burns kicks him again. “You gonna get up? Or should I drag you again?”
“Fuck you,” Carter spits out. “You’re the reason my damn arm feels like it’s been pulled out of its socket.”
Burns shrugs. “Drag it is, then.” He tosses the bag at me. “Here, angel. Catch.”
A perfect arc, I catch it by the bottom before it falls on the floor. From the familiar feel of something soft, I know exactly what’s in there.
Flowers.
What the—
Carter yelps. Using both hands, Burns grabbed one of Carter’s, literally dragging his back across the rough floor. When he’s opposite of the cot, he flings the former frat boy with enough force to have him spinning, landing flat on his face.
Groaning, he’s quick to recover. Shoving off of the ground, he gets to his knees, as though he plans on getting up.
Burns has other plans for him.
With the tip of his sneaker, he flips Carter over again. Once he’s down, Burns does the last thing I ever expected him to do.
He quickly pantses Carter, pulling off both the stained jeans he’s wearing and the boxers that are underneath. I have no idea what happened to Carter’s shoes, but in seconds, he left in nothing but a pair of white socks and a blood-stained shirt.
No matter how much pain he’s in, he’s quick to cover his dick.
Funny. Last time, he was more than happy to show it off.
“What the fuck, man? What are you doing? I only fuck chicks, not dudes.”
Burns’s chuckle does something to my insides. “When I’m done with you, you’re nothing fucking anyone, pretty boy.” He turns to me, making a grabbing motion with his hand. “Angel? The bag, please.”
I have no idea where he’s going with this. I toss him the bag anyway.
Once he has it, he points at me. “You recognize her?” When he doesn’t answer quick enough, Burns grabs Carter by the hair, jerking his head so that he can’t miss me. “Answer the question, Santorino.”
Carter’s eyes are swollen. Once he realizes that there’s no escaping Burns’s hold, he blinks slowly, trying to place me. I know in a second when he does.
Bruised and bloody, the bastard can still sneer.
“Yeah. I know her. Fucked her once and she came crying back for me. Shit. Is that what this is about? I didn’t give her more dick?”
Liar. He’s aliar.
And Burns knows.
Hetsks. “If only that’s what this is about. If she’d wanted you, maybe I could forgive what you did to her. But you’re not the one who sees her nightmares. Who hears her whimpers. Andthat,” Burns says, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a shiny pair of cuffs, “is what this is about.”
