Four hours later.
I pace the kitchen as sweat forms on my brow. “Well, where the fuck is he now?”
“I don’t know, Mase, you need to calm down. Vin will deal with this.” Lance tells me from his spot at my kitchen island.
“Calm down? Fucking murder, Sullivan, that’s what this is!”
Everything is fucked.
He screws his face up. “No, it’s not. It’s a lesson, and he fucking deserved it.”
My hands rake through my hair. He deserved it. Fuck. He deserved it.
“How long is he going to be? I can’t wait around like this.” I snap.
“Give it an hour and we’ll call.”
“Fuck that—”
Lance lifts a hand to stop me, his face tight. I follow his gaze which is trained on the closed kitchen door. “You hear that?” he mouths.
I walk to the door and rip it open.
The redhead gasps, and I try to remember her name, but my mind is already processing the conversation I had moments ago and how much of it she may have heard. “I was just leaving. I came to say goodbye.”
She heard us.
She heard what we said.
Murder.
“Thank you for this evening, my friend is expecting me home.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spit.
FUCK.
“What did you hear?” Lance asks from behind me.
“Nothing.” She says in a panic. “I’m just going to go change.”
She spins and runs for the stairs, the sheet clenched white-knuckled in her grip.
“The fuck, Lowell!” Lance hisses.
“She might not have heard everything.”
“As if, you saw how quickly she fucking ran from you.”
My phone starts to ring and I look down to see Scott’s number lighting up my screen. Lance takes the phone and steps towards the elevator.
“Fix that.” He eyes the stairs. “Make her keep her mouth shut.”
I wait for what feels like hours for her to reappear. My hands pulling at my scalp as I fight to find the right words.
How do I explain this?
She scurries from the room and spots me instantly, flinching before she schools her features.
