Page 19 of Bittersweet Revenge
“That’s right. We own you. Don’t you forget it.” I let go and he gasps, sucking in a sharp breath. I pick up the photo on his desk of his wife and two daughters. Fucking piece of shit. I can’t stand people who don’t treat their family the way they deserve to be treated. “Do they know what a disgusting pig you are?”
“Leave them out of it.”
“You’re not calling the shots here, Hal.” I walk toward the door and stop. “Your wife…Elizabeth. She likes to stay up late reading. She really likes that porch swing. You should talk to her about that. It’s not always safe.” Before he has the chance to respond, I walk out, leaving the door open.
The sun is bright when I step outside, and I’m thankful it’s still nice. We can go through four seasons in one week, and before we know it, we’ll be dealing with nothing but cold and fucking snow.
As I walk toward the other side of campus, where Cil and Rory are waiting for me, I’m trying to settle on what I feel. It’s a combination of disgust, exhilaration, and fucking pride. It’s wild how I can feel proud of shit like what I just did, while also sickened. I just don’t know which pull is stronger.
It probably doesn’t matter anyway.
Cillian and Rory are sitting at a picnic table.
“What the hell was that about?” Rory asks as I approach.
“He’s a fucking idiot. He’s worried the wrong people are hearing about our…operation around campus.”
“Which one?” Cil asks, and the three of us laugh. “You tell him to fucking deal with it?”
“Do you really have to ask? Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Cil shakes his head. “Not what I meant and you know it.”
“How is product moving anyway?” I ask.
“Good…not great, but college kids like to have a good time. We’re gonna need to get some more stuff.”
“I’ll make a call,” I tell him.
Rory pats himself down. “Shit. I don’t have my vape.”
“Nicotine will kill you,” Cil tells him.
“It’s gonna have to wait in line with all the other shit we do. A bullet’s more likely to take me before a vape does.” Rory grabs his backpack. “Oh, here it is.”
I roll my eyes. He’s a fucking idiot, but I love him. I don’t know what I would do without them. I’ve known them all my life.
Cillian looks up and motions behind me. “Your boy toy’s coming.”
I actually have to stop myself from turning around to look, which is a bit of a mindfuck. It shouldn’t matter that he’s coming up to me at all. “He’s not my boy toy, though that would be fun,” I reply, and they laugh.
“Yeah, but you never do them twice,” Rory says.
“I sound like a fucking cliché when you say it like that.”
“Then we’re all fucking clichés,” Cillian adds.
For a reason I can’t explain, my pulse beats faster than normal as I wait to see if Dean will approach. I can’t imagine he will, even if he wants to. He’s too proud for that. I like that about him. It’s obvious how much he wants me, but he doesn’t want to want me.
“Hey.” He steps up beside me.
I turn to look up at him, my gaze snagging on the fading bruises on his throat. “You’re still wearing my marks.”
“Fuck—”
“Me. Time for new material, New Kid. What do you want?” I ask just as Rory says, “Sit down. Join us.”
I throw my friend a pissed-off look. What the fuck is he doing?
