Page 12 of Burn With Me

“If he’d just take it easy, he’d be better, but he’s a dick that has to keep going,” she says.

Marcus releases Dean and steps back before smirking at her. “You’re Avalon, I take it,” he states, holding out his hand.

“I am.” She takes his hand. “I’ve seen you before, but we haven’t had the chance to meet.”

“I was a little busy, baby,” Dean says, sliding an arm around her waist when she and my brother part. I feel like a voyeur, watching the two of them. Almost like I’ve suddenly fallen into the background. It’s not a place I’m used to—not with someone like my mother dragging me into the limelight constantly in an effort to get people to see her as doting and caring—but I find that I don’t mind it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Avalon rolls her eyes before turning to me. “And you are?”

“Rori,” I say. She doesn’t bother to offer her hand to me and I don’t either.

Avalon’s smirk widens. “Interesting.” That’s all she says, and as much as I want to, I don’t have an opportunity to ask her what she means before my brother jumps straight into business.

“So, what do you know about Damien Icari?” he demands.

Dean blows out a breath and leans back against the pool table, both his and his girl’s sticks and their game forgotten as he pulls her in front of him and wraps his arms around her middle. Something wicked and jealous curls into my throat as he nuzzles against her neck, but I shove that feeling down. Shit like that is for other people.

“I know he’s not a good guy,” Dean states.

My body stiffens. “How is he not a good guy?” I demand, blurting out the question with little regard for the fact that I know Marcus only brought me here to listen in.

Marcus cuts me a look, but Dean answers anyway. “Damien Icari might seem like an average businessman and millionaire to the world, but most people who do even the slightest bit of digging can find the truth. He’s as dirty as they come.”

“Ties to the mafia?” Marcus asks.

Dean nods, and my stomach drops out from beneath me.What the hell has my mother gotten herself into? No. What the hell could a man who’s involved with criminals want with my mother?

“More than just ties,” Dean says with a shake of his head. His hands twine together with Avalon’s, and I watch as she adjusts herself against him, trying not to lean too much on one side. A curious part of me wonders why, but I don’t ask. Instead, focus on the discussion at hand. “He’s practically a member himself.”

“Why would he marry my mother?” Marcus demands.

Avalon looks past Marcus and stares at me. Her gaze is impenetrable and kind of unnerving. It makes me want to look away, but my pride won’t let me. Instead, I lift my chin and glare back at her which only makes her look harder as her lips curve up even more.

“Think about it, man,” Dean continues. “Why else? Your mother has connections to a lot of businesses. Even if she’s not directly involved, the Summers name carries weight and it’s got money backing it. That, and your Aunt Carmen is a force to be reckoned with. She’s the business brains of your family. Either he’s married her for a chance to get to Carmen, who otherwise wouldn’t have given a man like him the time of day, or…”

Dean drifts off and I jerk my gaze away from his girlfriend’s. “Or what?” I ask, calling his attention, and my brother’s, back to me.

Dean arches a brow at me once. “Or he’s planning on using your mother as a stepping stone to launder his own dirty money.”

A sick feeling cuts through my gut. That seedy fucking bastard. He wouldn’t dare—but no, he would. Of course he would. My mother can never find a fucking man worth a damn. I might feel sympathy for her if she didn’t keep trying and ruining Marcus’ and my peace of mind in the process.

Marcus’ father split, mine wasn’t rich enough for her family or her, and then the other one that had lasted more than a few months … I don’t even want to think about her last utter failure. Why couldn’t she just be happy without some sick, twisted, son of a bitch coming in to absolutely wreck our lives?

I bite down into my lower lip so hard, I taste blood.

“That’s probably the case,” Marcus says as if Dean’s last words haven’t completely overturned our current situation, but then he’s always been good at hiding his negative emotions. Unlike me.

I can’t deal with this though, not without losing my fucking shit. I turn away and start walking. I walk past the bartender and her customer and right out the door into the hot California sun onto the broken, shittily lain pavement of the bar parking lot.

“Fuck,” I curse as I scrub my hands down my face. Maybe that explains why Isaac Icari was staring at me so hard. Does he know? He has to know. That’s his fucking father.

Another thought occurs to me—was that why Damien had pressed so hard to have me move in with his son? A cold feeling rockets through me. My mother is one thing, but me … what did they expect from me? A hostage? A pawn?

Anger drives up through my body and I feel an itchy sensation in my knuckles; it’s overwhelming.

“Want to hit something?”

I jump at the question, startled because I didn’t expect anyone to follow me out here—least of all Dean’s girlfriend. I turn slowly, incrementally—as if I’m facing off with some dangerous snake. She just stands back, her hands shoved into the pockets of her ripped jeans. She looks like she belongs in a place like this—like she’s comfortable with decay and cheap beer. I like ripped jeans as much as the next chick, and as much as I detest the pompous places my mother enjoys, I’m used to it. It’s normal to me, whereasthisis not.

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