Page 63 of Sorrow

“I think we’ve turned my sister into a conniving little monster,” he laughs. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

It’s also his way of ending the conversation, and Samara knows it. She salutes him and cuts the heat on the stove.

“I hope you guys are really, really hungry.”

“Not for eggs,” I tease, and the look she gives me makes me weak.

Maybe we really did turn her into this.

“Well, you can eat eggs or make your own food, hmm?”

“You’re right, Boo. She really is a monster.” I move back into her space and tug her hair back so she’s forced to look up at me. “Fine, I’ll eat your stress eggs.” Smirking, I lean down to whisper, “ I’ll eat you later.”

Samara shudders, nearly dropping the spatula as she plates our food. “You’re bad.”

“So are you,” I reply, letting my hand ghost along her perfect hip as I walk toward the fridge. “So when will you see this chick again, Boo? You need anything from me?”

“Probably not until tomorrow. Just keep your phone on.”

Nodding, I grab some water and my plate before joining him on the couch. “Still gonna fuck her?”

“Gonna have to, right? It’ll be even more suspicious if I stop.”

“Yeah, that was why I asked, but you got this. Hopefully you’re just paranoid and she isn’t trying to use you, but if she is, I’m glad you’re gonna catch her ass. Maybe we can get our little monster to claw her eyes out.”

Over my dead body would I let her near anyone associated with The Sons, but the visual is amusing.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about sending her after Carly Jennings,” he mumbles. “Maybe the best way to get them to back the fuck off her is to show them she’s not some helpless easy target.”

He’s not wrong, but it’s still a risk we can’t take. “Maybe. I’ll teach her some self-defense moves later today.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, bro.” I offer him a grin he doesn’t return. “We’ve already done a few breathing exercises and she’s a quick learner.”

He smacks the side of my head and shakes his fork at me. “Those are the kinds of things I don’t want to hear. I’m being pretty cool about this, but that could change.”

“Alright, alright,” I relent with a small chuckle. “Too soon, got it.”

“It’s always going to be too soon.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” I glance over at Samara and find her picking at her eggs in the kitchen. She’s clearly pretending not to listen, but I know better. I’m the only thing that makes this woman blush. I’m still watching her when she jerks slightly at the vibration of her phone and my smile is immediately gone. Why the fuck is that bitch calling again?

In seconds I’m at her side and snatching it away from her, rolling my eyes at the blocked number he thought he could use to get ahold of her again. Naturally, I answer it before she can take it back. “This is getting pathetic, Nate.”

“You won’t always be around to protect her, you know that?”

Not Nate. Ricky fucking Madoff. I’d know that gravel-fucked drawl anywhere.

“No?” I reply, emboldened by the fact that they’ve been hiding like little bitches. “And how would any of you know that from the rock you’ve been cowering behind, hmm?”

“Who says we’ve been hiding? You’re right, she looks better in black.”

The line goes dead, and I have to fight every urge not to throw the phone against the wall. “Fuck! Boo, that was Madoff.”

The blood drains from his face as he stands up. “On her phone? How the fuck did he get her number?”

“No clue. I’d bet that fucking pansy Nate gave it up.” Gripping Samara’s chin, I gently bring her gaze up to mine. “Have they called before this?”

---