Page 33 of Lovers Fate

“Maybe.” I pull over and watch the guys laughing and shoving each other as they get into the room.

“Which room is hers?” Like I don’t already know, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m not sure, but it’s usually on the second floor.”

“Why do you say that?”

He grins. “You know, your British accent comes out sometimes.”

“Is that our way of changing the subject?”

“Is that your way of changing the subject?” he mocks in a thick British accent.

“You’re in a better mood.”

“We just killed the guy—well, you just killed the guy who could have done God knows what to her. Of course, I’m in a good mood.”

The way she danced while watching me is still fresh in my memory. How hard she made me, and I hate her for it. Look what I did without thinking. I killed for her, and I don’t know her name.

“You don’t know what he would have done, but I did it for you,” I lie.

“He was following her, and like I said, you didn’t see it. The predatory look he gave her when she walked away from him. It was like I could feel his thoughts burning in my gut.” His chest rises and falls like he’s hyperventilating. “I wanted to kill him right there. It was like something inside me snapped, Draco. I can’t explain it. All I know is that I need to protect her.”

“You have it bad, Kaden.”

“I don’t want to sleep with her, Draco,” he says in frustration. “It’s not like that. But I need you to help me keep an eye on her. I know you don’t believe in fate like some of us, but can you do this one thing for me?”

The woman is none of my business, but I hear the desperation in his voice. I wish I could believe like him and my brother, but the truth is, I never felt love for anyone. Not the kind my parents had. Not the kind my mother Alice would tell me stories about, but maybe I could make this an exception. We’ve got a show. Girls are going missing, and I need him to have a clear head.

We all do.

“Alright. Only until we leave town for the next show. That’s all I can promise you.”

He thinks it’s her. The one destined for me, or whatever the cards say, but it’s not. There’s no way any of that is true. I hated that my mother fed me and my brother stories that aren’t real. My fate. His fate. Our fate. It’s bullshit in my book. Maybe I can use her to prove to him that it’s not true. Prove to him that she isn’t who he thinks she is.

TWELVE

I watchfrom my motel room window as the red and blue sirens from the police cars whiz by on the beltway. My heart is pounding so hard inside my chest, I’m afraid it’s going to pop out. I didn’t get a look at the person in the black car, but whatever happened back there wasn’t good.

Initially, I didn’t notice the white Tesla trailing me until I heard the loud engine from the black car, followed by the screeching of tires as the car forced the Tesla off the road.

I didn’t wait to find what happened. I took off running until I locked the door to my room.

I look to my right when I hear laughing and see a bunch of guys walking to one of the rooms with beer bottles in their hands.

It’s not uncommon. College kids rent a room to drink and shoot the shit. One is probably old enough to buy the alcohol, and the others tag along because they’re not twenty-one or have nowhere to go. I overheard some of the kids in high school when they were talking about going to college and finally getting away from their parents.

More will probably show up. The downside of living out of a motel is the strange people who come and go. Some are obnoxious and won’t let me sleep, staying up at all hours of the night. Doors slam. Beds bang on the wall. And Simon is too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it.

Scanning the hallway on the second floor, I see four guys leaning on the railing facing the door to their room. One of the guys wearing a letterman jacket catches me spying on them from the window. He nudges his friend next to him. He turns around. They both grin. The other two turn to see what is going on and start to laugh.

The blonde one lifts his chin and says loud enough for me to hear, “How much?”

I flip him off.

“Aw, come on,” the blond guy whines suggestively. “Name a price.”

I pull back, letting go of the curtains, hoping he gets shit-faced and chokes on his vomit.

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