Page 113 of You're so Bad

Bertie lifts his head from his dog bed by the couch, giving a token growl to let me know he’s still not pleased with the way I’ve moved in on his girl.

I lift my hands to him. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“I mean it,” Burke says as he stares a hole into my head.

“I know you do.”

“You’ve got something to lose now,” he adds, because he’s the kind of man who likes to make a point and is good at it.

He’s right.

I’ve got a lot to lose all of the sudden, and I’m not used to it.

I nod slowly and watch as Delia joins him and they head off into the night.

As I close the door behind him, I feel Shauna’s arms circle my waist, and I turn to face her. She’s looking up at me with a flat mouth and the same kind of disapproval that she threw my way in the beginning.

“I know what you’re planning, and you don’t have a car. If you get caught, you’ll lead him right back to Reese. You know that, right?”

I reach down and smooth her hair. “Look at you, getting right to the point.”

“I mean it, Leonard.”

“Someone’s gotta give this guy a talking-to, Tiger.”

She glances back, making sure that Constance is still gabbing Reese’s ear off elsewhere in the house.

“And is that all you’re planning? You really think conversation is going to make him see the light?”

“I can be mighty persuasive.”

“So can I,” she says, grabbing my hand and guiding it down the front of her shorts.

Fuck me, I’m right there, and I can’t not cop a feel. I rub slightly, then dip a finger into her.

“Shauna.”

“You’re going to go no matter what I say to you, aren’t you?”

I lift my finger out and suck on it. Her sigh heats my blood, but she’s right…

“I’m going for a walk.”

“It’s miles away. Do you even have a mask? A getaway plan?”

No. I was going to think about that as I went along, but she’s got a good point about the mask. I’d be dumber than a Thanksgiving turkey if I showed up without one. Still, when I think about the way Reese shrank away from Constance’s little love tap, I want to crack the world open like it’s an egg and fry it.

I have to stop this guy. Ineedto. I don’t know if I can go on existing if I don’t do anything.

In my head, that hotel door is opening. “Found you,” my old man says. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you never run again, you little shit.”

And then the pain starts—bright at first, like looking into the heart of an eclipse, and then dull, like it’s happening to someone else.

I take a step toward the front door, but she stops me with her hand on my arm.

“We’re going to wait until dark, and we’re going together. We’re only going to talk to him if we can get him alone, away from the kids.”

The thought of putting her in danger is a non-starter. I don’t want her or Reese or Constance anywhere near this guy.

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