Page 69 of Nightmare

“He would have died anyway,” I say, softly.

“Do you know that?”

I mean, no, but I have to believe that if he passed so quickly that there would have been little chance for him to make it out alive.

“Bill doesn’t deserve to get away with what he’s done, regardless of what you think. I’m certain he has had a hand in many more crimes around town. He’s a monster, and someone has to do something to stop him.”

“Bill is smart.”

That’s it?

That’s all he’s going to say?

“Why aren’t you angrier about this?”

Sitting up, he runs a hand through his hair and pushes to his feet, leaning down to collect his jeans. He’s going to leave, as he always does, and there won’t be a single thing I can do about it. This is how Western deals with anything he doesn’t want to face. He just gets up, and he leaves.

“Don’t walk out,” I say, watching as he pulls up his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned.

“I’m not doin’ this.”

“I won’t say anything more. Just please, don’t go.”

“Have to,” he murmurs, picking up the rest of his things, “talk soon.”

Yet again, he walks out, leaving me with nothing.

Flopping to my back, I exhale angrily.

I might never understand what it was like for him that day, but I do know that someone has to do something to stop Bill from continuing his demonic little plot. He is hurting people, and he’s getting away with it.

I make a mental note to speak with Colt. Surely, he has looked further into this?

Surely the club wants to help.

Someone must help, right?

Someone must be wanting vengeance for Western.

Closing my eyes, I run my hands over the tender flesh between my legs. That was something I’ll not forget in a hurry. It has me wondering what it all means? The question of Hazel plays in my mind, repeatedly. Surely, he would have told me if they were still together? Surely, he simply wouldn’t have done it.

What if she finds out?

Or, even worse, what if it meant absolutely nothing to him and I just gave myself over without even trying to fight it.

Pressing a hand over my eyes, I huff.

I feel weak, like I’m no longer myself when I’m around Western. Like everything I’ve ever stood by, suddenly flies out the window when he’s in my presence. Little by little, he’s consuming my soul, and the worst part of that is I’m not entirely certain that he even feels the same way. Hell, he could just be having a good time and here I am, stupidly falling for it.

Trying to shift my focus, I close my eyes in a pathetic attempt at sleep. It’s late, hell, it’s probably early morning, and I need my rest. Switching my mind off, though, is proving to be somewhat difficult. My thoughts are all consuming and after about half an hour, I get up with a sigh.

Heading downstairs, I clean up any mess left behind from my encounter with Western and then I make myself a cup of tea and get some chocolate from the counter before flopping down onto the couch and putting a movie on. I don’t even know what the movie is, I’m just looking for something to distract my mind. Anything will work right now.

I must drift off because I’m woken suddenly by a loud crashing sound outside my door. Jerking upright, it takes me a minute to remember that I’m on the couch and not in my bed. The noise seems to be coming from the front door, so I push off the couch and walk over, peering out the window beside it. I can’t see anyone. With a curious expression, I carefully open the front door and leap back with a scream when my foot lands on something slimy and squishy.

Scurrying backwards, I stumble into my house.

For a minute, I’m horrified.

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