Page 26 of Heresy

But why be pissed off?

It’s just like how Tanner can be when he’s too hot-headed to listen. All he does is make a shit ton of noise, yell at anyone within hearing range and rant until he’s cornered long enough to actually hear a person out.

Namely … me.

Paul and Tanner are more alike than they realize, but it’s not Tanner’s shit I’m dealing with right now, it’s Paul’s. And that makes the situation more amusing than annoying.

Hell, I think I’m actually looking forward to it.

“So let me see if I have this right.”

Damon glances over at me as our feet stop on the top stair, the second floor opening up into a wonderland of depravity in front of us.

“You decided that fucking Hillary and breaking off her engagement to Paul was sufficient revenge for what those two did to Emily, Ezra and me in high school? I mean, I credit you for taking one for the team. Fucking Hillary would leave a bad taste in any person’s mouth. But that’s it? Just breaking them up? And now everything is supposed to be even?”

He eyes me, pity flooding his amber gaze as his head shakes ever so slightly.

“Man, I wondered if you were going soft in your old age, but this is worse than I thought. Hell, this is so pathetic, I think you formulated this plan from some fifth-grade playbook.”

He laughs.

“Just wait until the rest of the guys hear this.”

Taking offense to his statement, I eye him back while he tilts the bottle to his lips and swallows two or three chugs of his beer.

He speaks again before I have the chance to tell him where he can shove his opinion. And that would be a place that’s warm and damp, with his opinion shoved way up high so that his ass cheeks pucker just as much as the asshole.

“Don’t we know that chick? Or maybe…”

Damon’s voice trails off, his eyes laser focused on a dancer in the distance, his lips rolling together as his gaze narrows more.

“I think I’ve seen her somewhere,” he mumbles more to himself than me.

I become laser focused on Damon.

The only reason we’re even here tonight is because I was sick of his pathetic boo-hooing over the shit with Emily and his brother.

Like a dumbass, he’d gone to Emily’s house this morning only to get rejected. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his asshole father called him, although thankfully, Damon was intelligent enough not to answer. Either way, it was a recipe for disaster.

He’d shown up at the garage after that, wanting to spill his emotions like a bitch, and rather than giving into his bullshit by grabbing ice cream and a few lady movies to watch, I decided Damon needed a night out. Namely a place where he could possibly get his dick wet and forget about a certain red-headed nightmare who’s returned to our lives to fuck the twins and piss off the rest of us.

That’s why I brought him to Myth.

It’s good some chick already caught his attention.

My plan is working.

As usual.

Except when I turn my head to see which dancer he’d be picking up and cavemanning to a back room for a private show later tonight, my eyes become laser focused again.

“She’s the chick from the engagement party,” I answer before deciding whether making that connection was a good idea or not. I’m not entirely sure why it might be a bad idea, but my gut feels weird about the entire thing.

Damon turns to glance at me before returning his attention to the blue-haired dancer dressed in barely anything, her fake black angel wings extending behind her to fill the small platform she occupies.

“Why the hell was she at the engagement party? Who is she?”

He glances at me again while asking a question I hadn’t thought to consider. I was too busy cornering Hillary to wonder why a girl who stuck out like a sore thumb was anywhere near the governor’s mansion, much less Emily and Mason’s engagement party.

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