Page 14 of Ramsay

“I would but Diem can’t seem to stop with this one,” Ramsay says dryly. “Now we have to clean up your mess—again.”

Diem snorts and Oliver shakes his head. “Who cares? No one is going to miss the fucker once he’s gone.”

“McCafferty will,” Ramsay mutters.

“Paddy won’t do dick,” Diem sneers and I back up, leaning against the wall.

So, he is affiliated with the mafia and they’re discussing someone’s murder like it’s no big deal. The confirmation does not make me feel better because now I know I’m a step away from being sucked right back into the mess that I barely survived the last time. I thought staying away from the Sinners was good for my mental health but as it turns out, it might be directly related to my life.

Not good news. Why did I ignore this before? Because I’m stupid and assumed shit about rich dicks. More fool me.

So, what do I do now? Walk the fuck away, that’s what. I have secrets too and I don’t need a McCafferty all up in my business.

Resolved, I turn to go just as a low voice hisses behind me, “You’re fucking dead.”

I have zero time to react when something heavy slams against my head. Spots dance before my eyes and I fall to my knees, banging my skull against the bench before me with a moan.

Who the fuck hit me? Why?

Unfortunately, I realize too late that I’ve attracted unwanted attention when a pair of shoes appear in my blurry vision. Absently I note they’re really fucking shiny before I look up into Ramsay’s glittering eyes.

Fuck. What did I just get myself into?

The horrible reality is I don’t know, and I’m fucking annoyed with myself and Sabrina for this, because I’d be home in bed blissfully unaware if she hadn’t had her tantrum. Bitch.

I have to assume I have her to thank for my raging headache. She continues to cross the fucking line and if I get myself out of this cluster, I’m going to have to do something about her.

Not only that but she didn’t wait around to see if I might have suffered serious trauma.

I guess I underestimated what she’s willing to do too. Fucking ice cold…

Ramsay looks over my head before his cool gaze returns to mine, his eyes narrowed. I meet his stare head-on, although the pain in my head protests my upright state. Still, I ignore it. Now is not the time to show weakness, not to him—to them.

His eyes flicker before he turns his gaze to Diem, and says with a sneer, “This is your fucking fault.”

Diem scoffs and clenches his fists. “Whatever.”

Fault? Huh? Shit. Fuck. Damn. I’m completely in the dark but based on the pulse of caution keeping me rigid, potentially screwed. How do I get myself out of this mess?

With a sigh, Ramsay crouches down before me and says with a foreboding frown, “Who else knows you were here?”

Carefully, I consider my options because if the answer is nobody, then I could easily disappear, no one the wiser.

Licking my dry lips, I say quietly, “Sabrina.”

He turns away before I can gauge his expression and drops his arms to his sides. “Lord, help me from the conniving bitch. Okay, Oliver, take care of Ms. Preston.”

Take care of what? No fucking way.

Despite the pain pulsing in my skull, I push to my feet and grab the wall. My limbs are noodly, but I stiffen my spine as I say, “I can take care of myself.”

Ramsay glances back with a wicked smile that sends an icy chill down my spine. “Oh love, I’ll be the judge of that.”

Great. Now what?

Do they know I overheard them? Shit. I should’ve minded my own damn business.

Now, I’ve got Ramsay all up my ass and his calculated gaze does not inspire warm feelings.

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