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She smiles softly and it’s the most emotion I’ve seen since she arrived. There’s real love there. Love I’m not used to.
“He saved my life,” she answers quietly. “In return, I gave him my soul.”
And then, without another word, she leaves.
Mason
Ifind myself in the garage out behind the house when I return. I don’t bother with dinner because doing so would mean pretending like I’m not still pissed off from earlier and I can’t.
Not when she’s right fucking there.
After I left on the bike, I took a drive past the old Parker estate. The fucking thing’s empty, sitting against the sun like Dracula’s forgotten castle. Sure as fuck had enough darkness in it. I circled back around, waiting until I was sure Savannah would be gone before I came home. Luckily, Hannah was in theshower, so I was able to sneak quietly out here without having to face her.
Dad and I spent whole summers out here in this little shack, working on cars. Motors. Lawn mowers. Whatever we could. At the time, I didn’t understand why we did it. Now, I’m glad we did because they’re some of the best fucking memories I have with him.
I wish I could talk to him. Ask him what the fuck I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to keep all this shit going. What to do about the cartel. Hannah. Governor Gaines and her disturbed daughter. All of it.
He’d know. At least, that’s what I tell myself while I angrily pull the parts off that need to be replaced.
Tomorrow, I’ve got something to do. I won’t be around, but Logan’s men will be, as well as Ian and Puke and I know they’d never let anything happen to her.
Not if they enjoy breathing, anyway.
At some point, I notice all the lights in the house are off. Good. That means she’s gone to bed and I can get the fuck out of here without having to face her and deal with the bullshit that happened earlier.
My head’s still reeling; my cock still rock fucking hard remembering the way she felt wrapped around me, milking me.
Don’t even get me started on the fucking fantasies.
Fuck.
She was perfection.
I close up the shop and head inside, stepping quietly through the house to grab the keys to my bike. I’m about to head out when I notice the emptyPlan Bbox in the trash and the plate covered in foil on the stove.
Fuck me.
And now, I feel like a dick.
Despite being hungry. I shove the plate in the fridge and head for the door. I grab my bike, rolling it out to the road so I don’t wake her, only to look back at the house and see the glow of the lamp emanating from her room. She stands in the glow, messy red hair and soft eyes.
It’s the worry in them that makes my heart stutter awkwardly in my chest.
I don’t know why. We both got what we wanted. Or at least, that’s what she thinks. What I thought I needed to end this obsession so I could finally let her go. But . . . looking up at her, my chest burns with something possessive and violent.
Growling under my breath, I turn away, climbing on my bike before I do something stupid.
And I don’t look back.
I have never been a needy man.
It’s why Mom and I never got along when I was a kid. At the end of the day, I didn’t need her and I was content to keep myself occupied whereas my sisters needed her constantly.
I suppose that’s partially to blame for the large gap separating us now that I’m an adult, but . . . it could also be the man sliding into the stool in front of me through the scuffed and damaged bulletproof glass.
The California State Prison smells like cheap government cleaner with an underlying aroma of piss.
Good.
