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"Exactly," I said. "If I knew he was coming, I'd have time to run."
Slade grinned at the expression on my face. "You wouldn't really run."
"No, but some days it's tempting." I looked at him over the rim of my cup and wondered if I dared to ask.
"I'm coming with you," he said before I could ask. "I'm not leaving you to go into the hornet's nest alone. He's your father but I trust him as much as I trust anyone else in your family."
"Only an idiot would turn their back on my father," I said. "I sure as fuck wouldn't. On some level, he loves me, but he's not above using me to get what he wants. You know what they say about blood being thicker than water? The only thing thicker than that is ambition, and my father has plenty of that to spare. If it was in his best interest to burn Chloe and me, he'd do it. He wouldn't even think twice."
"He sounds like my father," Slade said sympathetically. "Mine was always looking for an excuse to use the belt on me. My sisters felt it occasionally too, but mostly it was me."
"He sounds like an asshole," I said. My father punished me, but he never hit me. Although, that might have been better than being locked away in the basement.
"Hewasan asshole." Slade shrugged. "One day I had enough and I wrapped that belt around his neck and pulled until he stopped struggling. None of us shed a tear at his death."
My lips dropped apart. I won't say I haven't been tempted, but I've never seriously considered killing my father. To be that desperate must be horrible.
"How old were you?" I asked softly.
"Twelve." He downed the last of his tea. "I left him lying there on the floor and went off to my first day of high school. The police ruled it a suicide and that was it. They knew what a prick he was, they just couldn't pin anything on him that would stick. I think they were glad to be rid of him too. And I learnt a valuable lesson. That I was capable of standing up for myself and that killing people who deserve it is enjoyable."
"I feel like I shouldn't find that a massive turn on, but I do," I said.
He grinned. "It's part of my charm. So you know, I still have that belt and I'll use it on your father if he gives me a reason."
"I have a feeling that belt has a long history of being around people's necks." I glanced into my coffee cup to find it already empty. I set it aside and rested my elbows on the table.
Slade leaned forward until we were almost nose to nose. "Yes, it does, and you know what? I'd like to put it around your neck while I fuck that pretty little pussy of yours."
That made me all sorts of hot. "How many people have you killed with that belt?"
He looked thoughtful. "Fourteen. It would have been fifteen, but I was only trying to scare the last guy. I almost got carried away."
"Will you get carried away with me?" His breath brushed my cheek, making my heart race.
"Definitely," he agreed. "But not to the point where I squeeze the last breath out of your body. I know exactly how far to go for us both to enjoy it."
"I would much rather do that right now than speak to my father." As it was, I was wet and probably flushed. If that bothered Dad in any way, that was too fucking bad. He could have given me a few hours, or even a few days, warning of his intention to visit. Since he didn't, he got what he got.
"I guess he wouldn't be pleased if we kept him waiting while I fucked your brains out," Slade said with a sigh.
"No one keeps Samuel Bell waiting." I matched his sigh. "He's going to be pissed off enough knowing I'm… Consorting with someone else with Brantley connections."
Which was hypocritical, given Kennedy's boyfriends all worked for the Brantleys.
"Is that what we're doing?" Humour shone in Slade's eyes. "Consorting?"
I snorted softly. "Yeah, that's the fanciest word I can think of for fucking. I was going to go with boinking, but I figured it sounded better."
He laughed. "You might be right. Although, bonking is a very good word. Very descriptive of the way a bed sounds when we're using it right."
I shook my head at him and laughed. "I guess it does. Why do I get the feeling you've given this a lot more thought than I ever have?"
"I'm a guy." He shrugged. "It's my job to make sure your pussy is getting wrecked just right. If I don't, that would be neglectful."
"Would it, now?" I picked up my phone and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. "And what happens if you neglect me?"
"I don't know, because I have no intention of doing it," he said. He stacked my plate and cup on his and carried them over to the trolley the staff used to wheel them into the kitchen for washing.
