Page 11 of Burn With Me

“You’re talking about them, aren’t you?” I demand. “Is that who we’re meeting? Is Dean from Eastpoint?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and I’m not so blind that I don’t notice he’s deflecting.

“Funny that you tell me not to worry about it when you know that’s all I’ll do,” I grumble.

“I needed to talk to you alone—and with Dean—because of my transfer. I’m leaving soon and I think it’s better if you come with me to this meeting. You need to know just as much about Damien Icari as I do, if not more. It would benefit you to be more cautious about people.”

“Ineed to be more cautious?” I practically spit out. The urge to slap the fuck out of him—even though he’s driving and speeding a good twenty miles over the limit right now—is intensifying. He thinksIneed to be more cautious about people? Is that why he acted so sketchy in front of Selene and Hel? “Is there something you want to say about my friends?” I demand. “You don’t trust them?”

He doesn’t look at me when he answers. “No.”

It’s as simple as that. Marcus is quick to judge and even quicker to write people off. It’s a surprise he has any friends at all. I sit back against my seat with a grunt.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” I growl. “You’ve been at Hazelwood for three years. You haven’t come home to New York in damn near all that time, but the second I show up—the second I try to get even a little bit of my own freedom, here you are, trying to—”

“I’m trying to look after you, Rori,” he cuts me off. “I know it’s inconvenient. Shit. I fucking know, okay? I don’t want to take away your freedom. If anyone’s earned it, you have.”

I think over his words for a moment before replying. “I’m not going to lie,” I tell him honestly. “You transferring isn’t such a bad thing—I wasn’t looking forward to my big brother hanging over me at Hazelwood, but…” A sorrowful yearning aches in my chest. I’ve missed him.

Sure, I fucking complain and shit—we fight sometimes—but Marcus has always had my back. Without questions and without fail.

“It feels like you’re running from me,” I mutter quietly.

The big truck comes to a stop at a red light and he turns to face me. Heat arches up my cheeks and I keep my eyes trained in front of me, afraid to turn and look at the expression he’s making.

“Rori.” His hand reaches out, touching mine. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

His chuckle is more breath than anything else. “Yes, you do, brat. Come on, look at me.” I suck in a breath and turn to glare at him, blinking in surprise when he lifts a palm to touch my cheek.

“I love you, brat,” he says, “and I will always be there when you need me. I promise that everything I do is to take care of you. I will make sure you’re safe before I go to Eastpoint. That’s why I’m having this meeting with Dean.”

“What is it about Damien that makes you so worried?” I ask. “You know they’re probably going to get a divorce in the next few months. Her husbands never last long. He’s not…” I drift off, not even wanting to say that monster’s fucking name, but Marcus already knows. I don’t have to say his name to elicit a reaction. His eyes harden and he drops his hand from my face to grip the steering wheel.

“It’s just a feeling,” he replies vaguely.

I narrow my eyes on him but don’t press. It’s neverjust a feelingwith him, but I let it go. Marcus has his secrets, and … I have mine.

The truck moves forward again when the light turns green and for the next several minutes, the two of us sit in virtual silence until I notice the direction we’re going. The tall skyscrapers and posh restaurants become less frequent and further apart until there are none left at all. The roads become gradually less smooth and I tense when I spot a few haggard-faced people milling about the streets with shopping carts full of stuff.

“Marcus?” I call his name and when he doesn’t respond, I look at him. “Whereare we going?”

Almost as soon as the question is out of my mouth, the truck turns into the parking lot of a one-story brick building with no sign and blacked-out windows and doors. The nicest thing in the parking lot is my brother’s truck and what’s obviously a rented SUV that he parks right next to.What the hell is going on?

“Come on,” he says.

Reluctantly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and pop open my door before following him into the building.

The second we step inside, a strong wave of cigarette smoke hits me in the face along with the acrid smell of cleaning supplies. I’m surprised. I would’ve never expected a seedy place like this to even have cleaning supplies. The cigarette smell is the worst though. I haven’t smoked in months and it makes me crave one.

There aren’t very many people in the building. A lone, skinny bartender is talking to a guy in a pair of overalls at the bar’s countertop and a younger couple in the back, standing around a pool table. As we approach, the girl lifts her head, and immediately, I feel assessed. Almost like she’s checking me over as a threat, her cool gray-blue eyes rove over my face and then down the rest of me before they come back up, and she smirks. I don’t know what it is about that smirk, but it irritates the fuck out of me.

The guy with her stands and turns when he notices the direction of her gaze. “Marcus,” he calls and I watch with a strange fascination as my brother goes towards him without caution and embraces him in a manly hug.What the actual fuck? Who is this guy?

“Dean, man, it’s good to see you,” Marcus says. “How’re you doing?”

I blink at the name and then it clicks. Dean—as in Dean Carter of Carter Industries. Shit. My attention returns to the girl as she steps up next to them.

---