“Okay, answer this. Will you screw around and cheat? Run into some brunette’s arms when you get spooked?”
“No. I’m done running.” Even if nothing happens further between us, I’m done with my old ways.
Mouth curved, eyes warm and razor-sharp, she leans forward so our mouths are nearly touching.
“If you do, I will probably kill you this time. And I have brothers who know how to get rid of a body.” Being oxygen deprived from holding my breath it takes me a beat to realize she’s teasing me. I’m flummoxed … for a second.
“Yeah, I’m sure they will kill me,” I mumble under my breath.
“That’s why we’re going to keep this quiet. See where it goes first. I don’t want them meddling in this time.” At least I’ll see the rise of a few more days.
“Fine. But we’ll need to tell them sooner or later.” Her gaze falls to my lips.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I whisper, half freaking out and yet half hopeful at the same time.
“Only if you say pretty please.”
When I press a hungry but soulful kiss on her lips, I whisper “I never say please.” But I know for her I’ll go on my knees and fucking beg.
Date = 9 November
Place = San Francisco (Mel’s house)
POV – Melaena
The house is empty, and I fall onto the sofa and fling my legs over the backside. I take my phone from my pocket and message Kiara.
Mel: Where are you bitch? I’m home.
She answers almost immediately.
Kiara: Date. C U soon.
Mel: Bring burgers. Starving.
I urgently need to talk to my best friend, about … what? Me and Damion? What we are? I’m not sure there even is a WE …
Oh, I know WE crossed the line. I know WE kissed. WE even slept in the same bed. And WE are a secret. Oh, and WE are so confusing. But are WE together? Is this really real?
I’ve realized that my feelings for him are real – whether it’s love or hate … or a combination of the two that’s still up for debate. There’s definitely a sizzling itch of desire. And I’ve seen a side of him I’ve never seen before.
Knock. Knock.
There’s someone at the door and as I didn’t lock it, I just yell for the person to enter.
Anticipating one of my brothers, I glance over the back of the sofa to find a total stranger standing in my living room. Startled, I nearly jump out of my skin and lurch off the couch to land on my butt.
“Hello, Melaena,” the man sniggers and walks closer to tower over me.
He looks around Uncle John’s age, with graying hair and dark eyes. His face and limbs are covered in scars as if he’s been in a terrible accident. I know I’ve seen him before, but for all the money in the world, I can’t remember where.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I scramble up from the floor and slowly walk backward until I feel the wall against my back.
“Keep calm, girl. I’m not here to hurt you.” He holds up his hands and I notice he has some ugly fingernails.
“The name’s Harry Brown.” He walks toward me, his gaze calm, not deadly but saying beware. I want to scream but it’s as if my voice is stuck. Is he going to kill me?
“So you know about me.” Guess the horror in my gaze gave me away. He stops right before me and his dark chocolate eyes look oddly familiar. “Let me guess, the locket?” I nod, desperately trying to find my voice.
“I’m sorry about your brother.” Strangely enough, he actually looks to speak the truth. So, he’s either a crazy person who feels regret after nearly killing someone, or he’s a nut job who goes around stabbing people but doesn’t mean it. Neither of which bodes well.
I cling to the wall as if to gear up some strength from the solid, cold surface, while my nerves jumble around in my stomach – not mixing too well with the load of pancakes in there.
Harry picks a photo of my family from the mantel above the fireplace and stares at it.
“I never meant for any of you kids to get hurt.” He looks up from the picture to me. “But unfortunately, my children turned out as ruthless as their mother. And if they go off their meds, I can’t fully control them.” Okay, that’s one way of saying you sired some psycho bat-shit-crazy offspring.
I stare at the photo in his hands. My brothers stare back. They would not be this timid. Blackburns burn the black. Nerves of steel, girl, nerves of frickin steel. I can handle this.
“So your little darlings are cuckoo and you just … what? Let them go rampaging around town killing innocent people?” I hit a nerve. He turns to me with a menacing stance and some wild eyes.
“Innocent?” he beams, “You don’t know shit, little lady. I was innocent and look what they did to me.”
“Well, send your psycho kids after them then … whoever they are … and leave us alone.” I swallow and the look in his eyes makes me pull back. His face turns into a disgusted frown as if invisible pigeons just pooped on his head.
“That’s why I’m here,” his expression is a pompous, angry mess. With one last look at the photo, he puts it back. “Revenge … justice … while they were cutting me, I burned their faces into my mind, never to forget a single one. So I came here to send a message to your daddy.”
“I haven’t seen my daddy since my mom died,” I hiss, emphasis on daddy. A sudden sadness clouds his eyes.
“You know your mother saved my life?” his voice fills with emotion. I’m fucking flabbergasted. Mom saved him? “Thank God she was such a decent nurse.” He wavers for a moment. “I owe her.” And as if thinking to himself he continues, “And the son who brought her there.”
“Son? What son?” He ponders with scrunchy eyes.
“She just said her son told her to help us. I don’t know which one.” My money would be on Jackson … or Ilkay … maybe Enrique.
“Yeah, stalking and killing her kids is a great way to pay your dues. Bravo.” I think I’ve lost my mind, but instead of shutting up and being afraid, I clap my hands.
Harry pushes forward and crowds me more up against the wall.