“I’d heard rumors, but I didn’t have any proof. Once you removed me from the picture, he had a free hand.”
Hutch’s chin drops, and he appears remorseful. “I’m sorry that happened to her. If I could go back and help her, I would.” Just as fast, he lifts his chin and green eyes flash at me. “It doesn’t change where we are now. She’s not a good influence on my niece, and I won’t have her misbehaving in my town.”
“So it’s your town now?” I can’t decide if I’m shocked or pissed. “I thought you despised all forms of pretense, town ownership.”
“It’s not a pretense. It’s the truth.”
We’re at the door of Uncle Hugh’s home, and I grab the handle before the truck is fully stopped. “You don't have to worry about my sister interfering with your family or sullying your good name in our town. Goodnight, Mr. Winston.”
Pushing out of the truck, I slam the door of the cab, storming to the front door.
I hear the sound of his voice briefly, but I’m not interested. I’m in the house, locking the door and my heart before he exits the driveway.
16
Hutch
Slamming the door to my bedroom, I wince, remembering it’s a Thursday night, and I’m not the only one in the house. I reopen it and listen for sounds of Pepper. After several seconds of silence, I close it again quietly.
My jaw is tight. Hell, my entire body is tight. I don’t know how we went from that fucking heaven to the pit of hell so fast.
It’s a lie. I know how. I’ve known from the start this was a bad idea. Blake is stuck in a reality where her sister is the victim with no agency. She sees Hana as a little girl locked in a room of abuse she can’t escape.
It’s not true, and it enables her to keep doing what she apparently always does, which is whatever the fuck she wants, and Blake cleans up the mess. It’s fucking infuriating, but I wouldn’t be giving a shit if I hadn’t started to care so much for Blake.
She’s under my skin, dammit. She’s been under my skin since I saw that fucking magazine spread with her breasts wet and barely covered, her pillow lips parted, and her silver-blue eyes saying fuck me through the pages.
I answered that call too many times. Now I’m the one getting fucked.
Scrubbing my hands in my hair, my face lowers, and I catch a whiff of roses on my shirt.
“God dammit,” I growl, ripping the garment over my head and throwing it across the room.
Hugh did this to me. He’s been playing these games with me for years, sending me to check on her, sending me her photographs. Now he’s put me in this position, where I have to stay near her to keep her safe. I walked right into his plan.
I’d be raging if it weren’t for that damn ledger, if it weren’t for what Blake told me about Victor stealing from her father’s estate, if it weren’t for that dead body. They’re the only things keeping this real and not just a fucking matchmaking plot orchestrated by her uncle.
What Hugh doesn’t know is I’m through with the games. I’ll find out what happened to his niece's inheritance, to his nephew’s estate, and then I’m out. Walking away. No more.
Blake van Hamilton can have her life in New York where she’s always looking over her shoulder and pretending to be happy. She can enable her codependent little sister as much as she wants. I’m done trying to save her.
I’m tense and angry as I rip back the blankets and climb into bed. For a long time I toss and turn in the sheets–which also smell faintly of roses, dammit–before finally, sometime after two a.m., I slip exhausted into a restless sleep.
Somebody’s got something on Hana. Dirk’s text is the first thing I see when I open my eyes to the blazing dawn.
“Tell me something that won’t surprise me,” I mutter, sitting up slowly and rubbing my face. I feel hungover, then I see the clock. “Shit.”
Throwing back the covers, I hit the shower. It’s after nine again, and I forgot to set my damn alarm again. I missed seeing Pepper off to school–again–now I’ll have to face Scar’s judgmental smirk at the office. Again.
I’ve turned into a model slacker since Blake entered my life.
The anger I brought to bed with me returns full force, and I’m out the door in less than ten minutes this time.
“Not so relaxed today.” Scar squints at me. “Still look like you didn’t sleep, though.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll drop it.”
“Is that a threat?” His expression is somewhere between amused and ready to kick my ass.
“I’m saying I don’t want to talk about it.” Scar and I are an equal match, but with the level of pissed-offedness I’m feeling right now, I’m pretty sure I could take him.
Still, fighting with my best partner is the worst form of unprofessionalism–right up there with fucking the woman I’ve been hired to protect.
“What do you know about this text from Dirk?” If anyone will get to the bottom of this shit, it’s Scar.
“I didn’t get a text from Dirk.”
“He sent it at around four a.m. Probably wanted to let you sleep.” Passing him my phone, I glance over at my brother’s empty desk.
I need to know what he’s discovered, but if I know Dirk, he’s just closing his eyes.
“Let’s go.” Scar is on his feet, and I figured this would happen.
Without looking back, he grabs his keys, and we head for the door.
My brother’s place is on the outskirts of town, set back in the woods. He bought an old garment factory, and while the first floor is abandoned ruins, he fixed up the second floor into a three-thousand square-foot loft apartment. He says he’ll do the rest at some point.
We enter through the wooden double-doors, sliding them open and leaving them open as we pass a wall of cloudy windows to a wooden staircase at the back wall.
“You got a key?” Scar glances back at me as he jogs up the wooden stairs to the second level.
“Pretty sure he doesn’t lock it.” My boots scuff on the old steps as I follow him.
I’m right. The heavy wooden door opens easily when he turns the handle.
“Dirk?” I call, but the lights are all off.
We walk into the front part of the studio, which is designed to be a living room. A kitchen and dining area are in the center, and all the way in the curtained-off back corner, my brother is facedown on a king-sized bed.
He’s not snoring, but he’s breathing loud when Scar jerks back the heavy curtains covering the massive windows. Sunlight bathes the entire space, and Dirk lets out a low groan before rolling over. “I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Vampire,” Scar growls. “Somebody’s going to come in here and stake you one of these days.”
“Not in wholesome Hamiltown.” He rubs his eyes, yawning.
The hair on the back of his head is scrubbed into a little nest, and for a second, I remember when we were kids, how protective I always felt towards him. My chest tightens, and I push back on that damn nostalgia. I’m not letting it change how I feel about Blake. She’s wrong.