Page 100 of Endgame

“Are we not talking now or something?” Rourke had the nerve to ask and I almost caved and gave that son of a bitch a piece of my mind. But then I remembered the best way to piss a person off was ignorance so I remained stoically silent.

“Six,” he repeated in his deep, raspy voice. “Talk to me.”

I tightened my hands on the steering wheel. “No.”

He chuckled. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pissed at you.”

“Because I asked you to fuck me?”

“No, Rourke. Because youofferedto fuck me.”

“I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I don’t care.”It hurt all the same…

“I’m not perfect, Six.”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of that, Rourke.”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he chuckled.

I fought back a smile. “Nope.”

“Good,” he teased. “I like it when I have to work for what I want.”

“I’m not an object, Rourke,” I shot back, disguising my hurt with bitterness. “I’m not a trophy you’re working towards either. You can’twinme.” I released a weary sigh. “You don’t even like me.”

“I do like you, Six,” Rourke countered in a gruff tone. “I like you a lot.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered, tightening my hands on the wheel.

Rourke had the good sense not to respond.

Several minutes of silence passed between us before he spoke again. “I’m guessing Molly is the one who told you about Amelia?” he finally offered, tone void of humor now.

“Um, yeah.” I cleared my throat, surprised as hell he was talking about this with me. “She mentioned it the other night.”

“Josh was the son of wife number four,” he informed me.

“What does that make him in stepsiblings; Five?” I cringed the moment the words slipped from my lips. This was no time for joking.

“It makes him a rapist bastard that needs locking up,” Rourke snarled.

Whoa.

“He…raped her?”

Rourke nodded stiffly.

My heart sank. “I’m so sorry, Rourke.”

“He should have been locked up for what he did to my sister.” He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. “Bastard manipulated Amelia. Fucked with her head and screwed her up real bad.”

I was having a hard time concentrating on the road; Rourke opening up to me was causing me all sorts of problems. “How long did it go on for?”

“I don’t know,” Rourke confessed in a torn voice. “She wouldn’t tell me, but I’m guessing a hell of a lot longer than the two months she reported to the cops.”

---