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“You could have gotten us killed,” she snaps, tears glowing under the dim fluorescent lights overhead. “A fucking gun, Mason?”
“Would you have rather I let him keep you? I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” She glowers at me, but she doesn’t argue. She knows I’m right. “Like it or not, princess, you’re in this with me and me alone. No one else is going to help you because your sister fucked over every single person she came into contact with, including you. You’re just too damned proud to see it.”
Her lips purse in anger and then she’s placing her hands on my chest and shoving me as hard as she can. I take a step back because my cock’s rock fucking hard in my jeans and fucking her right now is the last thing I want to do.
Well, it’s actually theonlything I want to do, but not after the Inner Sanctum. Not after Drew Marshall and his perverted lair of cameras. When I fuck her, I want her needy and begging for me, spread out in my bed with not a fucking shred of fabric between us.
Not here, in a dingy parking garage.
“You think I don’tknowmy sister was an awful person?” she challenges, biting back tears in her eyes even as they stream down her cheeks. “You don’t think there’s not a part of me that hates her as much as everyone else does? As much as you do?”
“What I can’t figure out is if you’re just a masochist or just a fucking idiot.”
Shock pools on her face and then, as if the universe wants to makesureI know I’m the asshole here, tears well in her eyes.
“Fuckyou, Mason. Take me home,” she demands, tugging on the truck door handle.
“Gladly,” I bite, letting her struggle for just a moment longer before she glares at me over her shoulder and I finally unlock it.
She gets in and I slam the door, a little harder than I mean to and she jumps, scowling out the front window.
The ride to the little pink house in West Los Angeles is a tense one, both of us pissed off. Both of us high off the adrenaline of the club. I want to rip something to shreds after Marshall threatened her and right now, it’s that fucking top she’s wearing.
I need to get her home. I need to take a cold fucking shower.
I need to go back to the club and take care of the cockroach that is Drew Marshall before he ever gets the chance to get close to her again.
When I pull to a stop in front of her house, she starts to rifle through her little shoulder bag.
“Stop.”
“Nope. I don’t want to owe you a single thing,” she replies cooly, rifling through hundreds in her wallet.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She’s pissed. I get it, but so the fuck am I.
“Go inside, Hannah.”
She throws a hundred at me like my truck has become some kind of aggressive strip club.
I throw it back.
She moves to throw it again and this time, she stomps out of the truck and up the sidewalk toward the house before I can reciprocate.
Fucking hell.
“Hannah,” I bark, sliding out and following her, even as she gets out her keys.
She shakes her head. “Take it and go. I should have known this was never going to work out.”
“Do tell, little doe. I’d love to hear your reasoning why you think you can get rid of me.”
“I’m not playing these games, anymore. Being punished for something I didn’t do. For caring about my twin sister. Yes, she was terrible to me in the last couple years, but it wasyourstepfather’s fault and no one’s holding you accountable for what he did.”
Fuck me.
“Is that what you think we’re doing?” I bite, gripping her under the chin to force her to look at me. “Playing games?”
