Page 79 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

Our bodies come down together, regulating our breathing as we sink into exhaustion with one another. I slump against his chest, and he makes no move to pull out of me.

We just exist with each other like this.

Before I can think better of it, I speak.

“I think I knew you in a past life. Do you think that’s crazy?”

My fingertips trace the lines of his collarbone.

“No.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But me wanting to know you in every life after this one might be.”

A MILD DISTRACTION

TWENTY-TWO

Rook

“Where have you been?”

“Hell.”

Alistair stares at me, unamused as per usual.

No amount of Briar’s pussy is going to make this dude any less a pain in my ass.

Carrying in the last two cans of gasoline, I look around at the empty lobby of the historic building. Town hall has been here since the founding of Ponderosa Springs. It’s the perfect victim, remote enough that it won’t spread to another building, but it also sits atop a small hill that looks over the town.One of the very first buildings, the Van Doren family had built it with their bare hands.

We are a legacy of judges and lawyers. This is our heritage inside these walls.

It feels poetic that I’m the one about to burn it down.

“Are we sure your dad is going to hold up his end of this?” he asks, picking up a can of lighter fluid from my pile of flammable liquid that sits on the floor in front of us.

“If he wants to keep his job, he will.” I bite down on the match between my teeth. “I doubt they’ll let him take the judge’s seat if everyone finds out about the years of abuse.”

It had been a very long time since I asked my father for anything. I suppose this doesn’t even count, considering it’s blackmail. But we need to get Thatcher inside Rimond Penitentiary, and unfortunately, the only person I know with those kinds of connections is Theodore Van Doren, Ponderosa Springs’ most notorious district attorney.

We needed an in, so I got us one.

“He’s not thrilled to be helping us, and Thatcher was prickly as fuck about having to work with Theo, all things considered.”

Alistair’s shoulders tighten, and I watch him bristle.

“You didn’t tell him why we’re doing this, did you?”

What exactly does a guy gotta do to get some trust around here?

“I’m not fucking stupid, jackass. All my father knows is that Thatcher needed to get a visit with Henry. He doesn’t even know about this”—I wiggle the jug in his face for emphasis—“part of the plan.”

I obviously had to share that Thatcher was alive and I knew where he was located. Which my father could easily turn over to the police, but they don’t know him like I do.

He sees himself as righteous; he only does immoral acts in the name of his God. If I tainted that image he’s painted for himself, he’d waste away into fucking nothing. Which is tempting, regardless of if he keeps quiet or not, but I’ve been working on forgiveness.

Whoosahand all that shit.

“And if he says fuck his reputation and turns Thatch in? Or doesn’t follow through? Then what, Rook?” Alistair crosses his arms in front of his chest, pushing me. “Involving Theo was a bad fucking idea. I told you that.”

I grind my teeth together, annoyed at his bitching. I am not in the mood to fight with him. We have shit to do, and us throwing punches isn’t on the list. It would be much easier if I didn’t get why he was so anxious.

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