Page 65 of Hate So Deep

Tipping my head back I laugh and say, “What are you implying, asshole?”

“Whatever’s going on, better not have anything to do with my friends, Lauren. I fucking mean it.”

What does he think I’m going to do? Hire hit men to take them out.

At the thought, I shiver and turn away.

“Any special place in mind forcoffee?” he sneers, and I give him the address.

It’s silent the first half of the drive until he says, “Where are we really going?”

Eyeing him sideways, I finally ask, “I need to know if you drove me home that night…the night my brother was attacked.”

I have to clarify because he’s a dick who apparently doesn’t remember the last time we had sex.

Asshole.

I wouldn’t be asking at all but it sure would make my life a lot easier if he said yes and we could report it to the police officer waiting for me at the diner.

“No,” he says, and my stomach drops because fuck my life, I am so screwed. “Why?”

Shaking my head, I close my eyes only to blink them back open when Dirk says, “Why, Lauren? What are you not saying?”

“I think I hurt my brother, okay,” I blurt, and the car lurches before he hits the gas again.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“I was with him that night,” I say, and he frowns.

“So?”

“I–” Rubbing my brow, I drop my head and mumble, “Do you think I could have hurt him?”

“No. Not possible.”

“How do you know?”

While I want to believe him, I don’t know how. He wasn’t there. How could he possibly know?

“For one, you’re not strong enough. Two, if you were as drunk as you’re describing, how could you have gotten to where he was?”

“I don’t even know where he was,” I mumble.

“My point exactly.”

Shaking my head, I stare at the windshield before asking, “How do you know I’m not strong enough?”

Waving his hand, he growls, “Your brother was beaten nearly to death and fucking impaled on something. Unless he was completely incapacitated and you used a weapon, it’s not possible.”

What…?

He was impaled? Holy shit!

Eyeing him sideways I contemplate his words before asking softly, “How do you know how bad his injuries were?”

From the corner of my eye, I see his fingers curl into a fist before he smirks and says, “Your brother heard it from your dad.”

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