Page 149 of Wicked Sins

I expect Candy to scream when his blood paints her face.

Instead, she arches her back andkicks.

My father’s still convulsing—coming or dying, I don’t have a fucking clue—as her foot connects with his chest, right above his cryptic fucking tattoo.

He shoots back, slides off the bed, and lands at my feet.

Thump.

I look up at her.

She looks up at me.

The poker drops to the floor.

Thump.

I step over my father’s unmoving body. My toes squelch through the slowly spreading pool of blood, and then drip down my soles as I climb onto the bed.

She opens for me.

I knew she would.

When I settle my weight on her, she sighs out my name.

I’d have fucked her right then and there, if I could.

But I don’t get the chance, because while I’m still struggling with my boxers, I hear the unmistakable sound of movement behind me.

No, can’t be.

He’s dead. I watched him fall. The blood’s all gone out of him.

“Jo!”

I clamber up, but I’m too late.

My father’s already standing by the time my feet hit the floor.

He already has the poker in his hands.

He’s already swinging.

Straight at my face.

Rage glaring.

That poker should have struck me right above my temple. But Candy leaps from the bed and strikes Wayne’s shoulder.

They go down together, her naked body twined around his. He brings the poker up. I grab it.

He wrenches it free.

Candy screams when it slams into her shoulder blade.

She rolls off my dad with a puppy-like whimper of pain.

We’re wrestling for control of the poker. Both grimacing, both grunting.

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