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“What’s his name?”
I steel myself.
“Her name.”
He pauses, a smirk pulling on his face. “You, uh . . . hit your head or something?”
“Or something.”
If only that were the fucking case.
When I saw her standing in my shop, I thought I had.
Hannah fucking Gaines. A girl I never thought I’d see again and consequently, the girl that’s been in the back of my mind for years. Festering. Haunting my fucking nightmares.
She looked good. Better than good. She’s still got that same innocent look and the prettiest fucking green eyes I’ve ever seen. Like mint leaves or Washington pine trees dripping in moss. Those eyes that keep me up at night.
Coming to me to ask for help in looking for Melissa Gaines took balls, I’ll give her that. It’s only because I knew if one of my sisters went missing, no matter what they’d done, I’d want them found, too. Fuck, I’d do everything I could to track them down, even if it meant turning them in.
She acted like I was just some fucking asshole off the street. Like I didn’t mean a damn thing to her. I guess I probably don’t, after the way things ended.
Good.
“Never seen you go to this length to get pussy,” Ian chuckles while we clean up. “You losing your touch?”
I grit my teeth. That’s what got me into this fucking mess, but he doesn’t know that. No one does. I fell for her sweet charmand soft voice and let myself get carried away in her cinnamon-colored hair and those fucking freckles on her nose.
Now . . . I’m paying the price.
“Just tell the driver to get the hell out of here.”
Ian gives me a salute before heading toward the back door. As soon as he’s gone, I work on torching the VIN numbers on the plates we pried off the car one last time, my mind stuck on the girl I thought I’d never speak to again.
Now here I am, agreeing to help her find the woman who aided in ripping apart my family. Her evil twin.
She must think I’m a fucking idiot. I know shit about Hannah that even she doesn’t know. I know underneath that perfect exterior is a darkness not many people can stomach. She’s just better at hiding it.
But, fuck. Something still draws me in. Maybe I’m a masochist.
God knows I feel like it.
Maybe she’ll disappear again, and I won’t have to worry about it. Maybe she won’t even show up.
Somehow, though . . . I know she fucking will.
Like some sick fucking joke, Hannah’s right on time the next morning, bright-eyed and cheery, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
It pisses me off. I’m fucking spiraling trying to figure out how to make this shit work while she’s just relieved I agreed to help her find her sister. Part of me wants to punish her for even thinking about going after Melissa fucking Gaines. The other fucked-up part of me wants to punish her for forgetting I existed.
Unfortunately, that’s the part that doesn’t shut the fuck up.
“Good morning,” she beams, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as if it isn’t too fucking early in the morning. Ian and I didn’t leave the warehouse until after two and by the time I fell into bed, it felt like dawn came five minutes later. Especially when the little redhead in front of me was bouncing around my brain like a damned battering ram.
“Yeah,” I grumble, unlocking the door to the office and striding inside. It closes on her and for a split second, I feel guilty. I have more manners than that. Then, I remember how she moaned my name and suddenly, shutting the door in her face doesn’t seem all that rude anymore. Especially when she pulls it open and steps inside, smiling like it doesn’t bother her at all.
And now I’m pissed off all over again.
Why the fuck did I agree to this?
