Page 78 of Inevitable Destruction

EVERETT

“Rainy Day”—Ice Nine Kills

The wind whipsthrough my still damp locks as I increase speed, leaning with the bike as I take a winding curve. The inky black night swallows every ounce of light, my single headlight fighting against the void. I have to squint to see, but that’s okay. I like the thrill—the possibility—of something happening. At any point, I could blink and crash, sending my motorcycle flying into the line of trees bordering the road. It would probably be quick and painless.

Or I could break every bone in my body and lie there, slowly dying with no one coming for me.

That’s what you deserve.

I clench my jaw, grinding my molars until pain lances through my jaw, sending shockwaves through the base of my skull. My hands tighten on the handlebars as my body grows rigid for a split second before I force myself to relax.

Streetlamps come into view as I round another small curve, now on the outskirts of town. I let up on the throttle, hating the way my hair stops thrashing my face. The pain felt good—necessary.

Instead, I focus on the sound of the tires rolling over the damp pavement and the rumble of the throttle as I cruise my way through stoplights on my way to the bar.

Too soon, I’m pulling into a parking spot and making my way inside. The moment I pull the door open, I’m assaulted with music thumping and groups of bodies plastered together. My brows tug together as I push my way through the masses on the way to the counter.

Minutes later and now even more pissed off, I finally see the bar top come into view. Every stool is taken, but it doesn’t take me long to acquire one. Planting my ass on the wooden seat, I rest my elbows on the counter and place my clasped hands under my chin as I wait for Fiona and some other male bartender to fulfil orders.

“What can I get ya, Rhett?” I blink a couple of times, focusing my gaze on Fiona. She’s in her standard cutoff white tank top, cleavage on full display. Good for her; I bet she’s getting a shit ton of tips tonight with this crowd.

I sigh heavily, unsure of what the fuck I’m even doing anymore. I don’t want to be here, around all these obnoxious people, but I can’t be home either. Because home is where Dominik is currently passed out, in my fucking bed. A bed where we fucked.

“Jesus.” I run my fingers through my now dry hair, catching on tangles from the wind.

“Long day?” Fiona asks, placing her hand on my forearm in a comforting gesture, but while my mind is aware of that, my body is not. I jerk away from the touch and bring my hands directly in front of me.

I clear my throat. “Just a Budweiser—bottle.” I hand her a twenty.

“You got it.” A moment later, the bottle is sliding toward me, and I catch it. Bringing it to my lips, I relax my throat and let it flow down, enjoying the strong, malt flavor on my tongue. Frankly, anything that would mask the flavor of Dominik in my mouth is good enough for me.

After setting the bottle back on the counter, I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my contacts. I stare at Seth’s name for all of thirty seconds before I press on it and start a text.

Me: Come meet me at Gin River.

I hit send without thinking, mentally berating myself for asking him back after I so desperately wanted him gone, but fuck. I didn’t expect this… whatever the fuck Dominik is, to become so consuming.

It’s too much—all of it. My plan, him. I need away from it all before I lose every sense of reason. He has me thinking things I never wanted to think. He has me second-guessing and fucking worrying.

No. That can’t happen. I need to clear him from my system completely. I’ll fuck Seth—he’s a good fuck, so I have no worries there. Then, with a clear mind, I’ll be able to go back and finish what I started—without all the complications I added.

I may want Dominik’s body, but that doesn’t mean I want him. Of course, I don’t. He’s the son of two murderers responsible for Pop’s dying…

“Fuck.” I slam back the rest of my beer, throwing my hand in the air to signal for another. Someone bumps into me from behind, and I throw a glare over my shoulder, immediately meeting the gaze of some female.

She smiles at me, fluttering her lashes and pursing her lips.

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

I turn away, fixing my gaze on the glass bottles lining the wall behind the bar. Fiona hands me another beer without a word, and I nod my thanks at her while she takes my empty bottle away. I take a sip just as my phone vibrates in front of me.

I look down at it, only to have a hand infiltrate my line of sight. A strong floral scent burns my nostrils, and I curl my nose in disgust.

“Hey,” a soft, feminine voice sounds in my ears, and I sigh.

Without looking at the woman, I pull my arm away from her touch and shoot her a disinterested scowl. “Look. I’m sure you’re a pretty little thing, but let me be honest. Unless you have a cock hanging between those legs of yours, you won’t do shit for me. So don’t waste your time.”

With a huff, she leaves, sending a wave of her nauseating smell through the air. Grating my teeth, I pick up my phone and read the text through the notification bar.

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