Page 29 of Rebel Revenge

Kian folded his arms over his broad chest.

My gaze dropped to the thickly muscled biceps, which I did not remember from back when he’d been the son of our housekeeper, and my best friend.

Kian narrowed green eyes at me. “It may be your father’s house, but forgive me for being surprised. It’s not like you’ve seen the inside of it in the last…what? Eight years? Nine?”

“Ten,” I corrected stiffly, guilt washing over me again.

Kian shook his head. “Ten. Of course. Only you would walk out of someone’s life a decade ago and then think you can just waltz back like nothing happened.” He jerked his head toward the damaged wall and vacuum cleaner. “What the hell were you doing with that?”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

Kian choked on his laughter. “So what? You thought you’d suck me with it?”

My jaw clenched, and I shoved past him, hating that it suddenly felt like I was eighteen again. “Fuck off, Kian. I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

Apparently, nothing changed with him either, except for the fact he’d bulked up and a had a few extra freckles across the bridge of his nose. His hair was shorter than he’d worn it before I’d gone to college. But he clearly still lived to give me a hard time. I stormed farther down the hall, leaving the mess I’d made with the vacuum cleaner. I’d worry about that later.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“To get drunk.” I rounded the corner of the den and went straight to a cabinet in the corner. “Does Dad still keep the alcohol in here?” I yanked the cupboard door open, and angels sang in my head. A full bottle of bourbon sat right in the middle, just begging for me to take a swig. I didn’t even bother standing or reaching for a glass. I pulled out the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle.

It scalded all the way down my throat, but it was the good kind of burn. Much better than the one in my chest that ached every time I thought of my dad.

Kian leaned on the wall to my left and made a show of checking the cheap watch strapped to his wrist. “Not even three in the afternoon. Bit early, isn’t it?” His brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be at your old man’s wedding right now?”

I took another slug from the bottle and rocked back on my heels. “Can’t. He’s dead.”

Kian’s shocked silence was so loud it was almost deafening. “Are you joking?”

“Would I be here getting drunk with you, of all people, if I were?”

He stiffly pushed off the wall and walked over to me. He held a hand out.

I stared at it blankly. “What?”

“Give me the bottle.”

I passed it over, and he took several long gulps before slumping down beside me on the floor. “Fuck.”

He passed the bottle back, and I took it, drinking down as much as he had then abandoning it to the space between us.

“I don’t understand.” Kian’s head thunked back against the cabinet. “Are you sure?”

I squinted at him. “Am I sure? Well, he’s in a body bag at the morgue as we speak, so I really hope they weren’t just messing around when they called time of death. Wouldn’t be a particularly funny prank.”

“What the hell happened?”

I shrugged. “Word on the street? Drug overdose.”

“No, that didn’t happen.”

I really wanted the alcohol to kick in faster. “It did.”

“Your dad doesn’t do drugs.”

“Yeah. well, that’s what I thought. But apparently, the old man, as straight and narrow as he is…was…these days, once had a wild side.”

“Didn’t we all?” His voice was laden with unsaid meaning.

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