Page 191 of Sinful Like Us
I recognize the target.
Greasy hair, thin lips.We called himSneakers.Back in October, we caught him masturbating in his car outside this house.
He tries to lift up his blue jeans, dick dangling. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He deserts the struggle with his jeans and chargesfor the window against the bed.
I’m faster.
Closing the distance, I seize his shoulder before his knee touches the mattress. I wrench him backwards, and I slam the butt of the gun against his head. Light force. The harder hit is my knee in his dick. And he crumples like a rag doll with a guttural noise.
Walrus and Carpenter dart under the bed.
He groans, still conscious but too disoriented to do much of anything. I squat down and roll him on his stomach.
Sick fuck.I fight back the heat that brews in my body and do my damn job. I should touch my mic and call this into the Alpha lead. Price is the one who’ll send backup.
But first instinct takes hold, and I pull out my phone. Unmuting my best friend, I tell him the target, and Akara asks, “Is he responsive?”
“Barely.” I sift through his pockets. Wallet, keys…condom. I go cold.
Thank God my brother didn’t see this. He would have committed murder.
Thank God Jane wasn’t here. She would have been scarred for fucking life.
I’ll carry this.
“Are you good?” Akara asks.
“Yeah. He’s down.” I explain everything else that happened and then end with, “Don’t tell my brother there was a break-in. Let me do it when he’s back.”
“That means I’ll have to keep it from Jane, Maximoff…everyone.”
“Please,” I breathe. My hand shakes a little, and I close my fingers into a fist, then open them to touch my mic. I think Farrow might have some cigarettes in his bedroom…
“I’ll let you do it,” Akara agrees. “Radio Price. I’m hanging up.”
“Stay frosty.” I pin Sneakers down with my knee and speak on comms. I’m hawk-eyed, eyes never leaving the target.
He had a restraining order and broke the thing like it was nothing. This shouldn’t be the price of fame, and now my brother—myfamilyis under that spotlight.
Fuck anyone who thinks they can hurt the people I love.
Fuck them all.
39
THATCHER MORETTI
34 Days Snowed-In
We haven’t takenthe ten-hour hike to the inn. But weather calms at dawn, and we thought this morning, again, we’d gear up for the trek.
Turns out, we don’t have to.
Roads are being plowed and salted. Which means after over a month in this house, we’re all finally leaving Scotland.Together.No chance in hell any of us are staying a second longer. We were supposed to be home December 20th.
Today is January 23rd.
Most of us are just thankful this didn’t last until March. We got lucky.
