Page 22 of Vendetta

“You know better than this.”

I shift in my chair. “Better than what, sir?”

“Better than to show your emotions like that. You—” he points at me, “—just gave him—” his finger shifts to the door, “—ammo.”

“He went against my word,” I say, although I realize he's right. Show them you care, and they know where to strike.

Even the people who shouldn't work against you will do it, given the chance. Just look at George.

“Look,” my uncle says. “You know how I feel about her being here. And I don't care what you do with her—kill her now, or fuck her and then kill her. As long as she's not in the way, I don't care.”

My fists clench into tight balls at his words, but like he said, I shouldn't, I don't react.

“Will that girl be a problem for you?” he asks, his voice sure, like he knows all my secrets.

“Will Stevie be a problem?” I ask him back, keeping my own voice even.

“Up to you,” he says and waves his hand toward the door, dismissing me.

I get up and walk out of his study, half expecting him to give me some parting words of wisdom, but, turning back, I see he's already concentrating on some papers in front of him.

I head out, throw my leather jacket on, and get into my car, thinking. I don't know how Stevie got into her room; I clearly remember locking it behind me. Her eyes come into my mind. She was trying so hard to look tough, but I saw the fear behind them. I turn the ignition, starting the car, and head for the hardware store, feeling like a fucking hypocrite the whole way there.

Because as dangerous as Stevie is, I'm nothing less. But I won't let him near her again.

“Don't you have people to do that?” she asks me in amusement, as I try to change the lock on her door. Sadly, I'm no handyman, and she's right. My uncle does have people doing this sort of shit around the house.

“I'd rather keep other people out of this room.” I give her a pointed look. “I'm sure you appreciate it.” I fight a particularly stubborn screw with my screwdriver, and when it finally turns, I take it out and hold it up, grinning like I just won a wrestling match.

“My hero,” she says, clasping her hands together in a mock swoon. Her words cut like a knife, no joke.

I install the new lock with much less trouble, and try it out a few times, locking, unlocking, locking it again, rattling the doorknob, all the while listening to her monologue soundtrack. I got the deadbolt lock, God help her if I lose the keys. Or me, if I get stuck inside with her.

“Do I get a key?”

I don't dignify that with an answer.

“I'm bored,” she says in this high-pitched whiny voice. I mentally slap myself because I find it adorable. “Why won't you talk to me?”

“Because you're annoying and it's testing my patience.”

“Well, I’m going to keep talking anyway. What's the worst you could do? Tie me up and gag me?” My head snaps to her, and she smirks, knowing she's got me.

“Try some children’s books for a change,” I tell her, pretending nonchalance. My head is swimming with images of her, tied up, naked. This is how dangerous she is to me.

I make use of the fact I'm turned away from her and adjust my already tight jeans. I move for the door to get out before it's too late, but her hand lands on my forearm.

“Come back tonight,” she says. “I don't feel safe after this morning.”

I want to shake some sense into her.I'm not safe, stop making it out like I am.But I just nod instead, earning me a smile, and exit the room.

LEIGHTON

I can’t hide my happiness when Devon returns that evening, holding a pizza and a bottle of soda. He sets the food down on the table, telling me to come and eat. I walk over quickly, opening the box and pulling out a piece.

“Where were you all day?” I ask around a bite of pepperoni.

“Out,” he answers, standing and watching me intently instead of eating.

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