But you don’t wanna mess with me. I’m the guy who knocks people out with one punch and then lights them on fire just for the fun of it.
Criminals, mostly. Never the innocent.
But she’s far from innocent …
Does she really wanna tempt me to become that twisted? To punish her like I punish those who betray their own morals?
Maybe … maybe she is yearning for me to end her quiet suffering, for me to bring her the justice she deserves. After all, I’m not the only one who did something unforgivable.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Dixie,” I say without looking at her.
“As if you could hurt me any more than you already have.”
Her words wound me in a way I didn’t think was possible anymore.
But I have to remain calm, have to fight this growing urge to jump her and do whatever I want with her. Because fuck me, if she keeps on talking, I will have to silence her, and I’ll use any means necessary, including my dick.
Instead, I open the door and step outside.
“Bye, Brandon. I’ll wait right here until you come back so we can continue where we left off,” she mumbles, quietly chuckling to herself.
She thinks she has me in a corner with the upper hand.
I’m not the one tied up and kept under lock and key by a man who can’t wait to use her for his every whim.
Without saying another word, I close the door behind me and hear her roar.
A filthy smile forms on my lips at the thought of what I could do to punish her … to ease the pain of my own suffering too.
But she’ll know soon enough just how vicious I can get and just how much we both deserve each other.
Chapter Seventeen
Dixie
I don’t know where he’s gone or what he’s going to do, but I’m not going to sit around and wait for him to return either.
I may have said that I was gonna wait, but girls lie all the time to get out of nasty situations like these. Especially when they involve bad boys who can’t control their tempers. And fuck me, does he have a bad temper.
He’s grown up and not just emotionally either. That body of his was hard as fuck when he lay on top of me. I could feel it, the tension in his muscles, the sheer force with which he threw me onto the bed.
I’m no match for his strength … or his dark, seductive eyes.
When he looked at me, I almost lost the will to fight back. They were that entrancing.
But I must focus and stay vigilant. He’s the bad guy. The one who got away with murder. I can’t ever forgive him, nor can I let him get close.
I get up from the bed and jerk on the door handles. Of course, he locked them. The windows are next, but those too are locked tight. Only a couple of small air vents at the top are open, but they’re only big enough for a couple of fingers to pass through and nothing else.
Mulling it over, I search for more options. There’s gotta be some way to escape.
This damn belt buckle around my wrists isn’t making it any easier either. And it smells like him too, reminding me he has me right where he wants me.
And there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no knife, no paper cutter, nothing in the drawers to help me free myself.
Goddammit.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew. Of course I’d try to escape, and he prepared for it, knowing full well I’d go looking … and find nothing.
Grumbling, I sit down on the bed again. I should’ve fucking used more explosives. At least then we would’ve both been blown to smithereens. Now we’re stuck in this god-awful motel. Why not just kill me and get it over with?
He hates me just as much as I hate him even though I don’t understand why. I didn’t do anything to him except for break up with him. Is that why he murdered my brothers? I killed him with heartbreak, so he kills my family instead?
No, there must be some other reason, but I can’t figure out what, and he won’t tell me.
Ever since my brothers died, I’ve been obsessed with finding Brandon, with knowing the reason behind their murders. And now that he’s here, I feel as though the answer is at my fingertips. All I need to do is grasp it, but how?
How do I make him talk?
Maybe using my body against him isn’t such a bad idea after all …
I mean, his eyes were looking all over the place, scanning my body, almost as if he was hungry for a taste. And I admit, it did excite me a little bit, but I won’t ever say that to him. It’d be a sin, considering the things he did to me.
Still, I can’t help but think about what would’ve happened to us …
And if we ever had a chance to begin with.
*
Past
November 6th
I haven’t seen Brandon since the night at the bonfire. Since he burned Derek’s hand and ran off.
He hasn’t shown himself at school nor at his dad’s shop. I went to Mr. Locklear and asked where he was, but he was hoping I knew. He kept asking what happened to him as if he could sense that I was there when Brandon ran.
I left without telling him the truth.
I don’t feel like it’s my place. Brandon should do this on his own terms, his own way.
If he ever comes back.
God, I hope he’s okay.
I take a sip of my Coke and lean back on my stool. I’m done with all my chores at the farm for today, so I’m busy in the workshop to take my mind off things. Or rather … the situation between Derek and Brandon.
They were fighting over me.
Me.
As if I’m some sort of prize.
Fuck.
It’s like one of those cheesy romance novels with two bad boys fighting over the one stupid girl. Fuck, how stupid am I to be the one in the middle.
Maybe I should just stay a virgin.
I snort to myself. Yeah, like that’s the answer to everything.
But at least I’ll be rid of the boys then. They’ll be my undoing, I just know it.
Sighing, I continue to work on my latest gadget, which is a homemade sprinkler with a timer on it. It might be of some use to my dad and his secret farmhouse. I’m hoping I can impress him with this. Maybe then he’ll want me there too and not just my brothers.