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Rage simmered under my skin. But was in that moment that I vowed to do something I would have never even entertained.
No matter what happened or what she said, there was no changing the future.
I was going to kill that bastard. A slow and painful death.
Imagining how someone could hurt a person like her was too much for me to handle.
I was messed up, willing to kill just about anyone for money… but even I had hard limits.
“I have a safe house for us,” I said. “I’ll protect you for the time being.”
“Until you finish your job?” she asked, her voice turning bitter.
“You don’t know what my job is,” I said, sourness filling my mouth.
“I hate you,” she said, her voice holding the power to silence the room.
It was a lie. We both knew it. But I let her have it. I let her feel the weight of the words, and I let myself feel the hurt of them.
“Let’s go,” I ordered and passed her without so much as a backward glance.
* * *
New Haven was not where I had originally thought to keep a safe house, but by the time we got there after a silent two-hour drive, I was about ready to take anything. They had questioned us for hours, and by the time we were on the road, it was already dark.
What made it even worse was the fact that it started raining.
The house was a quaint two-bed, two-bath house, but it was old and creaked under the weight of the rain. The upside was that it allowed just enough space for us to sleep separately but close enough that if anything happened, I would be able to get to her if she was in trouble.
I had thought she was sound asleep in her room, but when her bedroom door opened, I was met with a wide-awake Blake. She frowned when she saw me sitting on the couch.
“Where were you going?” I asked, turning to look at her.
This time she chose to cover up for bed, wearing a hoodie and sweats, though I doubt she was actually sleeping. Instead, I imagined her sitting on the bed, her eyes glancing from the door to the window as she stressed about what to do.
She probably debated coming out of her room for over an hour before actually taking the plunge.
“To your room,” she said with a huff, and she walked to the other side of the living room, plopping down on the love seat. She was oddly relaxed in my company.
“Did you want to talk?” I asked. “Scared of something?”
She let out a huff that caused amusement to tickle my spine.
“I wanted to fuck,” she mumbled. “Though now I’m starting to regret it.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I would gladly dive between those legs of hers for a chance to taste her cunt when a loud rumbling sound broke through the air.
Her ears turned a bright red.
“I damn near thought it was beginning to storm,” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice.
Her head snapped toward me, anger and embarrassment obvious on her face.
“Shut up,” she growled. “You know I’m still pissed at you for—what are you doing?”
I was already halfway to the kitchen when she turned to watch me.
“The place should be stocked,” I said and yanked open the twenty-year-old refrigerator. There wasn’t much in there besides lunch meat, some chicken breasts, mushrooms, and some cream, so I moved onto the cabinet. Just as disappointing, but I found some chicken stock and spices.
