Page 31 of Vicious Sentiments

Dillon kept his head down for the rest of the meal as if he couldn’t bear hearing about it. If it bothers him so much, why doesn’t he just leave? He’s old enough. I think with how mature Marney is that she would understand.

It must not be common knowledge how much he disapproves though because he didn’t seem compelled to bring up Cape’s fiance, and now that I think about it, neither did Cape. He sat there, sipping his beer, eyes dissecting a notch in the table. Julianwas the only one who seemed interested in the little reveal, smoothing his thumb over my hand and elaborating about the deal in Florida.

It was apparently a means to establish a rapport. He didn’t say what kind of gun, or guns, that he gave them but did say it was a special, and they paid a pretty penny for it. One of the unique occasions where their hands get dirty.

I take a deep breath of the salty air. I tell myself that it doesn’t matter what they do, as long as I’m safe, which Julian makes me feel. I don’t see how Cape’s fiance was killed though, unless Dillon was lying.

A shadow suddenly blocks the moonlight. I clutch quickly at the blanket, twisting to look behind me. A figure in black looms over me, arms crossed over their chest.

“Thinking of running?” Cape asks.

I suck in air at the sound of his voice.

“No.” I make to stand, wanting to hurry past him and back into the safety of the house.

“Sit back down.” He puts a firm hand on my shoulder and it prevents me from standing.

“Uh…” I crumple back to the sand.

“What? Scared of your boyfriend’s brother?” his voice takes on a taunting edge as he lets go and lowers himself beside me. “I don’t bite,” he says as he dusts the sand from his hands. “Unless you want me to…” He raises his brow in question, a playful quirk in it.

I crane my head around at the house, hoping someone else is coming out or sees that I’m alone on the beach with Cape.

“I’m kidding.” He plants a hand on my head and turns it back to face forwards. “Shit, you’re skittish.”

“I should probably go to sleep. It’s getting cold,” I lie. My heart is beating so fast that the blood in my body is flushing my skin.

Cape straightens up and shrugs off his jacket. “Here.” He drapes itover my shoulders.

I stiffen. The jacket envelops me in the scent of rum, a touch of masculine cologne, and a bit of sweat. It’s musky and heady, an intimate smell that makes me gulp.

“So, you want to run?” He massages the stubble on his chin as he squints out at the black ocean.

I try to clear my throat. “No.”

“Shame. Thought I might come with you.”

In surprise, I really look at him then. His lips are turned down, all the typically etched anguish on his face is slack and he almost looks his age—maybe early thirties?—less severe, and dare I say, less dangerous.

“You want to run?” I risk asking.

“Run, die, cease, whatever.”

My heart pangs for him. I know what that feels like. Even if it comes from a different place. I’ve never lost anyone like he has. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose someone you love. I want to ask him what her name was but I don’t think I should let him know that I know, in case that sets him off.

“I think I’m too much of a coward, though,” he says.

His words are so familiar that I can’t help but agree, and my response slips out before I can stop myself. “Me too.”

He dips his head and looks at me, his eyes prodding and suspicious. “I don’t think you understand what wanting to die feels like.”

A fluff of anger runs through me. He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know what I’ve endured. I narrow my eyes at him. “I know what wanting to make the pain stop feels like.”

He studies me for a moment before his lip slowly quirks up. “Yeah, what do you know about pain?”

My nostrils flare. “I know what it feels like when your teacher’s dick is too big, so he has to dig his fingers inside you to clawhis way in.”

I quickly look away, shocked that I said that, the words feeling like someone else’s venom on my tongue.

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