Page 61 of Overcast

Her father doesn’t remove the scowl from his face. “You think keeping her is going to sway me?”

“So, I should add shitty-ass father to the mix too?”

I expect him to tell me no. That he doesn’t want me to hurt her anymore. That he wants to speak to me alone—fucking anything other than what he answers with.

“I never wanted her,” he states. “But I wasn’t going to put her in the system, figured she’d be better off.”

I clench my teeth together. He’s either fucking with me, and my limits or he really doesn’t give two fucks.

Stormi remains quiet behind me, and I wish I could see her face. This could all be a game they play to make me feel sorry for her. To let her loose since she’s given me nothing. “Have you fucked her yet?” Hollis recites, drawing my focus. His eyes are narrowed in on me, the first emotion towards her from either man since I brought her in.

“Do you think I’m going to be answering questions from you, dickhead?” I leer. His gaze flicks behind my shoulder to her.

It sends another wave of anger through my veins and confirms what I already knew. They’re an item—a team. He has feelings for her of some kind. Whether it be from his heart or his cock, it doesn’t matter, he just outed himself.

“Did you let him stick his dick in you?” Hollis finally asks her, conviction laced in his tone. “Did you bend over because he’s younger and—”

“Shut the hell up, Hollis,” Stormi’s dad mutters. “I told you that she was out of your league.”

“Young pussy is out of my league?” He lets out an incredulous scoff. “I’d say it’s right in my wheelhouse. Especially when I was getting her off on your couch. That pussy was so fucking wet. I couldn’t wait to fuck it and her ass when—” My blade pierces his shoulder.

It yanks in memories of how I found Stormi the first time we officially “met”. Her laid back on the couch with her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, Hollis’s fingers thrusting into her while her eyes were closed.

I remember it vividly. “Don’t talk unless I speak first,” I growl into his face. “You want to chat about Reagan Lockwood or no? Because you have a date later, and I don’t want you to miss it.”

Which includes Bishop’s element of choice; fire. “You stupid motherfucker,” he quakes before eyeing my weapon in his body. “I hope that bitch died.”

“She didn’t,” I deadpan. “Because your associate—” I jerk my head in Stormi’s direction. “—didn’t do her job right.”

Hollis’s face falls, his eyes trailing back to Stormi. “Yeah...she’s a better shot.” And there it is—another confirmation. For a split second, from time to time, I began to doubt my own judgment. That the woman behind me couldn’t withstand what I put her through without spilling something vital that I needed.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I can feel her observation of me, it licks up my back and shoots disappointment rippling through my frame.

I don’t know why I thought she was different. “Maybe,” I reply slowly. “But she’s good at keeping her mouth shut when I half-drown her.”

And her lips were fucking flawless.

“Drown her?” Hollis repeats. “So, you haven’t fucked her yet?” My fist flies into his face before I step back.

I’m not going to pummel him to a pulp over his fuck buddy, his fascination, whatever the hell she is to him, and what they are.

It’s none of my business. My own attraction for her is purely just her looks. It doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things. I got to come within feet of her—I’m good now.

“Sounds like someone has a girl crush.” Hollis’s tone is meant to taunt, but I’m unaffected by it.

I’m way passed over Stormi.

To the point where the Glock residing in my back pocket sounds like a an appropriate ending for the both of us.

I can be done babysitting her, and she can pay the price for what she did to Reagan.

There is no point in keeping her around any longer.

Movement flanks my side. Cautious and fairy-like steps towards her dad as Stormi walks closer.

I don’t move, intrigue getting the best of me and what she’s going to do, say, what she might know, and decide to shed.

“Dad,” she whispers. “This is serious. He believes that we did something.”

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