Page 23 of Sin Like the Devil

Lennox softly curses. “Trust us to pick the weirdest fucking stray out there to adopt.”

“No backsies. So what’s the deal with guava girl?”

“It’s papaya, genius.”

I feel my eyebrows raise to my hairline as surprise washes over me. “How do you know what kind of body wash she uses? Feels like more than an educated guess.”

“Xander.” His tone is thick with amusement. “And believe me, you don’t want to know how he got that information.”

“Why not?”

“Leave it, Raine.”

It’s not like the infamous Lennox Nash to keep secrets from me. He may be a knucklehead with the world’s shortest fuse, but he’s loyal to a fault and never shies away from telling you exactly what he thinks. If Lennox hates your guts, you’ll damn well know it.

“You get taken to the warden too, then?”

“Nah,” he rumbles. “They just wanted her. Haven’t seen the bitch since.”

Ignoring the way that makes my insides twist uncomfortably, I retrace my careful steps across the room. Tap. Tap. Tap. When my guide stick connects with what I think is the desk, I feel for the chair then spin it around to sit down.

“Technically, you started it.”

“How would you know?”

“My ears work perfectly fine.” I flip him the bird, hoping it’s in the right direction. “You gonna fill me in on this little feud?”

“Little.” He laughs, but it’s bitter and strained. “There’s nothing little about the purgatory that evil cunt left us in. She wanted us dead.”

“It obviously didn’t work.”

“Obviously,” he mutters.

“What happened before I came to Priory Lane?”

Before he can respond, there’s a terse, all-business knock on the door. I hear Lennox move to open it, letting Xander step inside. I’d recognise his trademark spearmint scent from a mile off without needing to see his face.

Our fearless leader has to be the most cold-hearted bastard I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Xander is the kind of person to stop next to a car wreck just to take photos rather than call the police.

Last time I touched him, his features felt narrow and bird-like. I bet the iceman looks like a breakable China doll. Pair that with his short, cropped hair, so soft I’d wonder if he bought shares in a hair product company, and he’s the full picture of elegance.

“Where have you been?” Lennox demands angrily.

Xander silently pads into the room, the rustling of paper being unwrapped telling me he’s pulling out a stick of gum. Oh, yes. The iceman is always minty fresh.

“Have you seen her?” Lennox asks. “Xan?”

After a long beat of silence, his flat response comes. “No. Are you sure it’s her?”

“You think I’d forget?” Lennox hurls back. “She kicked me in the fucking ball sack.”

“Doesn’t sound much like her,” Xander challenges coldly, his voice as lifeless as ever. “I think you’re seeing ghosts, Nox.”

“It. Was. Fucking. Her.”

I can just imagine the pair of them glaring daggers at each other right now. For two men who claim to be best friends, family even, they fight just as hard as they love. Though Xander would never admit such a thing. He shows love in far more violent and sadistic ways.

I wave a finger in the air. “If it helps, I witnessed the whole thing. This chick knew who Lennox was and sure didn’t sound happy to see him.”

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