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The good shit, from Del Lucio’s. Eat it. As much as you can.
I’m not hungry.
I don’t care. EAT.
How did you know I like pineapple on my pizza?
It pained me to put the devil's fruit on it, but she always ate it that way. I would have stomached it for her, too.
I know you Katie.
I don’t even know myself anymore.
I’ve got some work to do. I’ll text you later. Eat the goddamned pizza.
My phone pinged a few minutes later with an image. Dark rings circled her reddened eyes as she took a large bite out of a slice.
Good girl.
The speech bubble danced a few times before stilling. With a sigh, I put my car into gear and headed to the club.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
KATIE
The TV mumbled in the corner as I lay on the sofa, staring numbly, not registering the moving pictures at all.
The previous night was still full of empty gaps. Brief moments of clarity were rare and uneventful. Still no recollection of grabbing a knife and... I swallowed hard, abandoning the thought as the pizza I’d eaten earlier threatened to make a reappearance.
Mac had come to my rescue, cleaning up my mess without judgement. Even after he’d found another man, a dead man, in my bed. He’d wrapped me up and looked after me, and even came back to make sure I’d eaten.
Why?
He could have called Cam and left me in his hands. My brother had more resources than Mac and the McGowan’s did. But he’d taken my sins into his hands to absolve me of the shame that would come from having to explain myself to my family. From having them look at me differently.
Cam had spent his life shielding me from being involved in the grisly side of our father’s crime empire, taking the weight of it into his own hands repeatedly. He’d be so disappointed in me.
A knock sounded against my door, making me jump. I checked my phone; it was late. Mac hadn’t texted, but I could only assume it was him.
And not the police.
I looked through the peephole, but couldn’t see anything, so inched the door open while keeping the chain on.
‘Hello, Katie.’
Tommy grinned at me from beyond the gap as I tried to force the door closed. ‘Not so fast. We need to talk.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you. I told you it’s over.’ The door wouldn’t budge, even when I put my full weight behind it. Looking down, I saw his shoe wedging it open.
Fuck.
‘You don’t have a choice.’ I flew back as he rammed the door with his shoulder, the chain ripping clean off the old doorframe as the door burst open.
My feet slapped the floor as I made for my phone, but pain ripped through me as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back to him, wrapping an arm around my waist as I flailed.
‘Let me go!’
‘God, I didn’t think you’d be so fucking spunky after finding a dead guy in your bed.’
