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“Where will we go? You just paid for this room,” I remind him. He brushes it off like it’s nothing.
“You have two choices. Choose carefully because my patience is running thin right now.” He cracks his neck from side to side before he continues. “One, you wait here, and my men take you.” I look to the men who haven’t even paid us a lick of attention. “Two, you come with me and stay at my place until I decide what to do with you. But under no circumstances are you to run. I want you to fully understand something…” He steps up closer and lifts a finger in front of my face. “No matter where you run, I will find you. I’ll hunt you. No one can hide you from me.” His words rock through me and I know he’s telling the truth. Not only is he scary, I just saw what he can do.
He is dangerous. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind about that whatsoever.
“I’m a shit house guest,” I inform him.
He grabs my bag, which has seen better days and starts toward the door.
“It’s best you follow. If you don’t, my men will take you.”
I look around to see the men watching me.
Better the devil you know. For some reason, that’s what pops into my head when it comes to him.
I follow him out to his car. It’s nice. Black and fancy. He doesn’t open my door, just gets straight into the driver’s seat and throws my bag in the back like it’s nothing. I glance around—it’s dark and quiet. People are passed out on the streets, either from drugs or alcohol. It’s an awful area, but it’s all I could afford.
“Get in,” he growls.
I do as he says and climb in. He takes off before I can even buckle myself in. This man has no care in the world for anyone. Not once does he say anything or look my way. It’s as if I don’t exist, yet I’m being forced to go to his house. He slows down as he reaches a set of closed gates. Pressing a button, they open to let him in.
I sit back and stare. Even though it’s dark and there is only a porch light on, I can make out that this house is nice. I mean real nice. I grew up in a nice home. It was nothing fancy, but we were comfortable. My parents were good people, and possibly still are, but I can never go back. And I’m not sure I want to.
I’m such a disappointment.
They even told me so.
So I’ve been on my own for a while after I left he-who-shall-not-be-named. Asshole.
And I’ve been getting by, barely.
I want more for myself. I want to do more, earn my own way and live life.
But that’s hard when no one wants to give you a chance.
Kyson stops the car, gets out, and grabs my bag from the back seat, not once asking me to follow as he walks to the front door. I know I have to get out, but I haven’t moved. It’s hard. Is he being nice, or does he plan to kill me?
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car. After closing the door softly, my bare feet carry me along the cement driveway until I reach the large, black double doors which has one side open to allow entry into what seems like an open-planned living space. Stepping farther in, I see furniture that looks surprisingly homey as well as comfy. Wooden floors shine to an almost reflective finish, add to the flow of the room, and translate through to the dining area as well as the kitchen. I instantly smell clean, as in no mold or trash.
Is this how he lives? It must be nice.
Standing there for a good five minutes, I just stare. I can’t say I’m accustomed to places like this, because I am not. Managing to finally move, I hear a noise and follow the sound to the kitchen, stopping when I see an older lady dressed in a nightgown making a coffee. She turns to me, a soft smile on her face as she holds a container of sugar in her hand. Her white hair is pulled back in a bun, and she has kind eyes.
“Hello, dear.”
“Hi,” I say, lifting a hand.
“Would you like a coffee? I made you some supper. It’s on the table.” She motions behind me, and when I turn, I see Kyson sitting at an ebony wood table and eating. He’s concentrating on something on his phone and doesn’t pay me a lick of attention. But the food, wow. The plate set in front of an empty leather chair is full—steak with veggies, biscuits, gravy, and a side salad. My mouth starts watering. “Hope it’s okay, dear. Do you eat meat?”
I look back to the little old lady, wanting to cry, but manage to hold it in. “I do.”
“Nancy, she will eat. Don’t baby her,” Kyson growls out. I take a deep breath and move to the table. I pull out the seat, but he still hasn’t looked my way. Whatever’s on his phone is interesting, that’s for sure.
Picking up the knife and fork, I don’t bother waiting for him to reply. I take in the art on the wall next to me as I stuff my face, literally. I’m surprised he has anything decorating his walls, least of all the colorful abstract art in purples and turquoise. When I look back at my plate, I’m pleased that I’ve only gotten through half the steak and veggies. I get the feeling I’m being stared at and look up to see his eyes are now on me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and slow my chewing.
“How long has it been since you had a decent meal? Do you have no manners?” he asks softly, but it’s filled with venom.
Chewing the last of what’s in my mouth, I swallow, then answer, “None of your goddamn business, asshole.” I stab another piece of steak, and the lady, Nancy, coughs from behind me as she brings over a glass of lemonade and places it in front of me.
