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“Well, she’s lying to you. She didn’t birth you. She’d be torn in two. She obviously kidnapped you and raised you as her own! I bet your picture is on a milk carton somewhere…you’re like that movie I watched as a kid. What was it called?”
“Ah, that one.”
He shifts to face me. “So you do know what I’m talking about?”
“No.”
He huffs and sits back in his seat, glowering out the window. “Well, whatever. Your mother and I will meet one day, and I will be able to look her in the eye.”
He smirks over at me, and I refuse to smile back. Little fucker.
“Do you have any siblings? A brother? One just as big as you?” The way he licks his lips makes something ridiculous bubble up inside of me.
“A sister,” I blurt before I can think better of it.
“Oh, and is she huge too? A giant behemoth?”
“She’s four-eleven.”
Diablo snorts so loudly he chokes, slapping his knee and turning purple. I debate pulling the car over to do the Heimlich and then decide to let him ride it out. He deserves to choke. The little shit.
“I need to meet her too.”
“You’re never meeting my family.”
Diablo quiets down after that, turning his face toward the window. A part of me feels bad because it has nothing to do with him, not really. It has everything to do with his father though. I don’t want my worlds intertwined. I can’t risk them ever meeting. That’s what I do. I keep everything separate, in nice little boxes. Which is why me crossing these professional lines is so detrimental.
I am so fucking fucked.
“I don’t want to meet them anyways. I’m sure they’re just as annoying as you,” he mumbles.
I don’t say anything. I’m sure both of them would like Diablo. They are kind and overly friendly and see the good in people more often than they should. They’d look past any glaring oddities that Diablo displays and find the things that make him unique.
That’s a good word.
Unique.
That’s definitely what he is.
“We’re almost there,” I say as I turn down a long gravel road. We are somewhere in the high desert, moving to a safe house off the beaten path. This one has a laundry room at least so Diablo can finally start wearing some of his own clothes. Maybe having his ass out of eyesight will make him a little less tempting.
Not that I’m really tempted. But I might be just a little—tempted, that is—to spank his ass again.
I did like watching him squirm.
“Fucking finally,” Diablo mutters, shifting in his seat again. I’m glad he’s speaking again. As much as I want him to shut up, I also don’t like when he’s silent.
As the run-down house comes into view Diablo snorts softly. “Well, it’s better than the Unabomber cabin.”
“It did have an uncanny resemblance, didn’t it.”
Diablo meets my stare and he smiles at me before squashing it.
“This looks far too modern for my father’s tastes. It has air conditioning, right?’
I glance at the sloped roof and the rickety trailer parked next to it. “Probably not.”
Diablo groans and shakes his head. “I won’t survive it. I’m going to be so hot.”
