Page 47 of Suck This

CHAPTER 10

Sometimes I want to drop kick my ass into last week.

-Constantine’s secret thoughts

CONSTANTINE

“Constantine?” my office elf, better known as Crude—yes, that was his real name—asked nervously.

This was why he’d never been anything more to me. The nerves.

He acted like at any second I was going to kill, maim, or turn him. Which I’d assured him more than once that I wouldn’t.

Which I guess, sometimes, I was wanting to do. He was too timid, and that pissed me off. Today more than most.

“What?” I snapped.

Crude looked like I’d beaten him.

“There’s someone here to see you,” he whispered.

Had I been a normal human, I wouldn’t have heard nor understood him. But I wasn’t human, thank fucking God, meaning that I could hear him thanks to my heightened senses.

I snarled, causing Crude to give up and flee, pissing me off even further.

I most certainly did not want to see anyone. Not right now, and I was fairly sure ever.

Chen was… different.

He wasn’t the same man that I’d brought under my wing when he was a stupid seventeen-year-old kid. He was a man that was harder. More annoyed by everything.

I literally turned him into a man that wasn’t him, and I wasn’t sure if Chen—before when he’d been him—would want to be this man. Would he want to live a life where he was constantly having to be watched in fear that he’d kill someone?

And then there was the whole police involvement.

Luckily we’d gotten to Chen’s body before his body had been processed. Meaning they didn’t have one hundred percent proof that Chen was the one that died that night with the girl.

“You better go before the cop gets pissy and starts forcing his way in here. Then he sees your fuckin’ room and has a cow and demands to know what the fuck happened.”

I rolled my eyes at Pavlov.

I’d seen more of him and Abraham in the last week than I’d seen of them in the last two years.

Not that I minded. It was just hard to do without killing each other.

“Were you able to get a hold of the girl?”

I wasn’t saying her name for obvious reasons—reasons I still wasn’t willing to admit—and Pavlov knew it.

“Yes,” he answered. “When I offered to try to wipe her brain, she told me I could shove my offers up my ass and sit on them.”

My mouth quirked.

“Got it,” I grumbled, trying to hide my happiness at knowing she didn’t want to forget about me. “Take me to our leader.”

Pavlov laughed his ass off for about two-point-five seconds while he walked to the door.

We all knew who the real leader was: me.

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