Page 52 of The Bad Brother

No.

I’m ready to kill him because Cade is right.

Being involved with me puts a target on Sloane’s back.

Living here puts her in danger.

Like he can read my mind, Cade gives me an almost apologetic smile. “Alright.” Bobbing his head while he levers himself away from the doorframe, he digs his hand into his back pocket. Pulling out a thick stack of folded cash, he moves to toss it onto my coffee table. My winnings from tonight.

“Keep it,” I tell him before lifting my glass of water in a mock toast. “You earned it.”

Scowling at me, Cade shakes his head. “Jen?—”

“It’d be yours if I hadn’t taken your slot tonight,” I remind him with a shrug, the movement settling a dull, throbbing ache into the meat of my shoulder. “Seriously—keep it. Buy Gun something nice.”

Like I knew it would, mentioning his son stops Cade’s argument cold. “Whatever.” Jamming the cash back into his pocket on a pissed off head shake, he sighs. “I know you don’t want them, but we need cameras. If we had them installed, we’d have the fucker who sliced you on tape.”

Again, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right.

And cameras might be a way to give Sloane a small measure of protection while she’s here.

“I’ll call the security company in the morning.” Setting my glass in the sink, I start to move toward my bedroom. “Seriously—go home. Sloane took good care of me. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he barks it out on a laugh on his way out the door. “I heard.”

He’s gone before I can tell him to fuck off.

THANKS TO JENSEN, I WAS ABLE TO HAVEmy first real breakfast in weeks. Scrambled eggs with toastandbacon.

He even bought me orange juice.

Belly full, I stepped into the shower Friday morning, deliciously achy in all the right places.

That’s thanks to Jensen too.

After he left last night, I cleaned up—finally stripping off my gloves and bagging them up with the bloody towels that were so beyond salvaging that I just ended up throwing them away.

Puttingbuy more towelson my mental list of things I’ll dedicate my next paycheck to, I washed my hands and disinfected the countertops and island before I headed upstairs and threw myself into bed, sometime around 5AM, and didn’t wake up until I heard the distinct snap of the loft’s front door being closed. Eyes open, the first thing I seeis a drinking glass, half-filled with water, holding a bouquet of the same blue bonnets and black-eyed Susans that grow wild along the river behind the mill. Scrambling out of bed, I look over the railing to find the downstairs empty.

Heading into the bathroom with a sigh, I find offering number two waiting for me on the bathroom counter—a neatly folded stack of plush bath towels. Crossingbuy more towelsoff my list, I used the bathroom before heading downstairs to start my day, more than a little disappointed that I had to do it alone.

Stepping out of the shower about twenty minutes later, I wrap up in one of my new towels, rubbing myself dry before hanging it on a hook. On the counter in front of me are a few bottles of scented lotion, also courtesy of Jensen. While not expensive, they’re a million times better than the tube of cheap, medicinal smelling lotion I liberated from one of the hospital supply closets.

Selecting one that’s supposed to smell like vanilla and night-blooming jasmine, I lift a foot to set it on the closed toilet lid. Smoothing lotion into my thigh, I notice a set of faint shadows between them, one on each inner thigh. Looking closer, I realize they’re bruises.

Dropping my leg, I turn around, aiming my backside at the mirror before peering at my reflection over my shoulder. More bruises, these slightly darker, brand my ass cheeks. Four them on each cheek, in a neat little row, roughly the size and shape of a man’s fingers.

Jensen’s fingers.

I’m not stopping until my filthy little peach soaks the front of my pants with her cum…

Nipples suddenly swollen and tight, cheeks flushed, Ilift my gaze to find a woman I hardly recognize staring back at me. Did I reallylickthe wet spot I left on Jensen’s pants last night after I came all over the front of them? Did I really moan and whimper while he fucked my throat, so eager to swallow his cum that I was actually disappointed when there was nothing left to swallow?

Was that really me?

Did I really do those things?

Yes, I did.

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