Page 113 of No Saint
I cut off the shitty music. “Because I’m tired of this shit. That crap at the auction last night. Cops showing up. Aren’t you tired of all the petty shit Cassie’s done yet?” I pointed at his pink shirt. “That. The rats. The laxative, itching powder, putting you in the fucking ER with an allergic reaction?—”
“She didn’t know I was allergic to chilies.”
“Give me a break.” He could not be that stupid. “And then Jade…” I swiped a hand over my jaw. Saying her name had a pussy-ass ache forming in my chest. “I just wanted them out of the house. I think they got the point by now.”
Rogue went to open his mouth, but I cut him off.
“Her being here almost fucked up my chance at the NFL. I told you it wasn’t a good idea on day one.”
I snatched the loaf of bread from the counter, then dropped a piece into the toaster, hating myself for jumping back in with her, falling in love with her all over again, like nothing had changed. It had. We had changed. A year and a half ago, Jade never would have dreamed of screwing me over like that. And even if she didn’t intend to use that penguin against me, the fact that the thought was there was enough to have me questioning everything.
“I thought you two were together again?”
“Yeah. Well, hard to be with someone who intends to fuck you over.”
The scent of toasted bread filled the kitchen seconds before it popped up with a clang.
“What are you talking about? We were the ones fucking them over.”
“You never would have turned that video in to the cops. And you know it.” The entire ordeal had been stupid.
Rogue had pretended it was to teach them a lesson. When I knew damn well, the main reason he wanted them here was to hold Cassie captive. The idiot was in love with her and couldn’t see it. At least my stupid ass was well aware of how dumb and naïve my heart was.
Bellamy appeared in the doorway, wiping sleep from his eyes. “What in the hell is going on? Cassie’s up there ranting.” He moved past Rogue and me, grabbing the pot of coffee. “You two are down here shouting.”
Rogue jutted his chin toward me. “Wolf let the girls leave.”
Footfalls thudded down the steps, followed by Cassie shouting something unintelligible before the front door slammed shut.
Bellamy glanced over his shoulder, confusion wrinkling his brow. “Why? Didn’t they have another week?”
“Jade had one of the pinger penguins in her backpack,” I said. As I took in Bellamy’s shocked expression, that sense of betrayal I’d felt last night once again took root in my gut, its ugly tendrils spreading like a disease. “She was going to turn it into the cops.”
Rogue snatched his phone from his pocket, jamming his finger over the screen before storming to the back door. “I swear to God, Cassie. I’m going to?—”
The door slammed closed, and I took my coffee and toast to the table.
Bellamy sat across from me, but I didn’t look up. “I don’t think Jade would have actually turned it in.”
Maybe she wouldn’t have. That was what she’d said last night, but the fact that she still had it in her bag, when wewere supposed to be together… “Doesn’t matter. Hendrix was probably right about the Medusa bullshit.”
“Hendrix is never right.”
“He said I should watch my ass.” I crammed the toast into my mouth, thinking about how the guilt of having that video, even though I knew no one else would see it had damn near killed me after I’d kissed her that first time.
I felt like a hypocrite. But Jade hadn’t seemed to have a problem keeping that penguin in her backpack, evidently carrying it with her everywhere she went. A loaded gun to use the moment I fucked up. That wasn’t love. That was… I didn’t even know what to call it.
“He’s always said that a woman scorned couldn’t be trusted farther than you could throw her.”
“I mean?—”
“Did you forget about the time Drew rammed her Porsche into your car?”
I knew Bellamy wasn’t about to try to argue with me. If anyone knew about a woman scorned, that dipshit sure as hell did. His girl had a temper rivaled by few—well, few outside of Dayton…
A low chuckle bubbled from Bellamy’s lips. “Yeah. I remember.”
“So, don’t act like Hendrix and his wiffle-ball bat injured brain aren’t right about that.” I hated to admit it, but he was.
