Page 43 of Sorrow

“Are you?” His mouth trails bites down my jaw to my neck. “Then let’s get home and get Boo out the door for work.”

Sitting back, I take a deep breath and decide to take advantage of the state he’s in. “Why didn’t he turn The Sons in? He had all the evidence in the world. Why hide it? This could’ve all been over.”

Sighing, he drives for a few minutes before he gives me a response, though I can see it on the tip of his tongue the entire time. It’s the only reason I don’t rush him. “Because they threatened you,” he admits. “They said they’d kill you.”

That’s why Boo wouldn’t talk in front of me that night. All of this, our house burning down... it’s because Boo was worried about me. “Why didn’t you talk him out of it?”

He looks at me like the answer is obvious, and when I simply continue to stare at him like I need him to say it, he relents. “I just told you. We won’t risk your life, Samara. Neither of us.”

That’s not what he said, and I find it hard to believe Hayes gave a fuck whether I lived or died the night that happened. Even after, he tried to refuse to let me stay in his house.

But nothing about his expression suggests he’s lying to me, which tells me one thing: it’s more important than ever that I get out of town and never look back. Once I’m gone, Boo will be free to turn them in the right way. Once I’m gone, they won’t have to worry about me. And most importantly, once I’m gone... none of this will be my problem anymore.

18

The nicest thing about living with Hayes is having access to his food. The Chicken Bryan I make for dinner is fucking delicious — possibly the best thing I’ve ever made — but the goat cheese alone is so expensive that Boo and I could never afford it. Hayes clearly doesn’t have that issue, and I’m more than happy to take advantage of it.

Boo eats so much he’s sluggish as hell leaving for work, groaning and moaning about how he’s too full to go chase criminals around. I’d roll my eyes if I weren’t genuinely worried about him right now. “Just be careful, okay?” I plead. I won’t tell him Hayes told me the truth, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hint at it. “I don’t care what they say or what they do. You get those guys and just end this, okay?”

“I’m trying. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

His defensive tone has me backing down and staying silent until I’m shutting the door behind him, when I find Hayes leaning against the bookshelf in the foyer. “How do you see this ending?” I ask.

“This shit with The Sons or... us?”

Oh, hell. We both know how it’ll end between us — probably in a fiery pit of hell or something. “The Sons. But... both?”

Slowly, he closes the distance between us. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Hopefully with their graves.”

Yeah. Hopefully theirs and not my brother’s.

“And us?”

“I don’t know that either, but I don’t see you actually fucking this Nate guy.“

Irritation makes my jaw tick. “Oh? And why’s that? You don’t think I’m attractive enough for him?”

“I think you’re too attractive for him in every way. You’re a hurricane, and he’s just a... wet blanket.”

There’s that word again, hurricane. It makes my stomach sour when I really think about what it means — all that fear and death. But when he calls me that, it doesn’t sound malicious. It sounds... precious. “Sowhat’s the problem then? Why won’t I fuck him?”

He shuts me up with a kiss I don’t expect, then cuts it off before I’m ready for it to end. “Go try on your new lingerie.”

Fuck, I really hate him sometimes. “Which one? The one you bought for Nate, or the one you bought for you?”

“Nate,” he practically growls. “The pink one.”

Oh, this’ll be fun and not violent at all. Curtseying just to be an asshole, I skirt past him back to his room where I stashed the bag.

As I anticipated, I look like a fucking clown in this thing. The ruffles really don’t do it any favors, and the color makes my skin look even more washed out than it already does.

But hey, my tits are visible and my ass is completely out, so I have a feeling it’ll still do the trick. Even I know that men are simplistic creatures.

I find Hayes leaning against the door frame watching me when I turn around, his gaze roaming my body hungrily. “Look at you.”

He smirks.

Of course he smirks.

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