“Yes! I do. Kiara and Sierra. They’re…” Taylor frowns like she’s trying to figure out quantum physics. “Four. Twins. Oh, my God, my babies.” Crocodile tears start running down her face but I’m having none of that shit.
“Tanner, we can’t. She…has babies.” I’m losing her to her humanity, but I know exactly how to fix this little SNAFU—Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.
“Ask me where she left her kids today.” I squeeze her hip to remind her of who’s in charge, and that tiny gasp of air tells me she got the message loud and clear.
“Where did she leave her kids?” We’re both looking straight at Taylor as we continue our little chit chat, and as I give my truth to Berkleigh, I revel in the way our captive’s face loses all color.
“In the back seat of her car with all the windows closed.” My teeth latch onto Berkleigh’s ear lobe and I suck it, hard enough to make her melt into me.
“They had their phones!”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that’s justification enough.
“Well, in that case…” I start to move away from Berkleigh but her arm snaps behind her and her fingers latch onto my sweatshirt.
“What’s going to happen to her daughters?”
“They’ll never survive without me, Berk—leigh.” Taylor almost uses my girl’s nickname from high school—and yes, that was my doing—but she corrects her trajectory at the last second.
“My guess is their father is going to take really good care of them. Maybe even save them from their mother’s cuntiness.”
“No! You can’t—” Taylor is screaming for help, her screeching voice bouncing from the soundproof walls. “Help! Help!”
“Sweet Bee, she needs to die.” I’m practically whining, and without waiting for Berkleigh’s response, I curl my fingers around the loose strands of her hair and slam my mouth against hers.
Our kiss is hungry and full of dangerous anticipation. My tongue sweeps right in and I take control of the situation, take away her doubts and kiss away her misgivings.
The world will be a better place without the bane of Berkleigh’s existence, that’s the message she needs to feel and understand.
When we pull apart and open our eyes, I see it. Behind the shine of her big blues, the uncertainty has faded just enough for me to land the final blow.
“Do you remember when you got accidentally locked inside your college library?” My hands are cupping her face, her brows slanting in confusion at my sudden change of subject.
“Yeah, of course. But the better question is how doyouknow about that?” She’s cute with her useless questions. Which, of course, I ignore.
“Taylor sucked off the student on duty so he’d close early and not do a runthrough to check if anyone was left behind.” My words have the same effect as a slap to her face. She tries to take a step back but I’m not done.
“What about your mother’s accident? Do you remember that?” It’s a rhetorical question. No fucking way she forgot the day her mother fell from the roof and broke her femur and shoulder, spending weeks in the hospital.
“What?” One word and it’s barely a whisper.
“That wasn’t me! It was Lucy’s idea.” Taylor’s whiny voice hitches on her friend’s name and I think she’s finally realizing that her life bill is adding up…and not in a good way.
“She almost died, Taylor. You almost killed my mother?”
“She wasn’t supposed to fall, she was supposed to call you out of the house and—” Taylor shuts her fucking mouth because anything after that would be just as bad as what actually happened.
“Baby, look at me. If you don’t want blood on your hands, I get it. I’ll give this to you. I’ll offer her head on a silver platter.” I’m not speaking in symbolism. Bones literally has a silver platter in the cupboard in the corner and I’ve got all the tools I need to separate the head from the spine. I’d barely break a sweat.
“No.” Berkleigh’s entire body takes on a different stance. Her shoulders squared, her chin up and her eyes swimming in unapologetic hatred, she pulls me in for a kiss. There’s nothing romantic or sweet about it, it’s all teeth and sucking and begging for permission to do very, very bad things.
Let’s fucking go!
My hands slide down to her ass, fingers pressing against the smooth leather that cups her cheeks in perfect half moons. My dick is so hard it has me thinking fuckthenkill, but when Berkleigh pushes me away, sliding my hunting knife from my sheath, I realize she has other plans.
“Any last words?” Berkleigh points the tip of the knife to Taylor’s face, inching closer and closer until it’s resting softly against her lips.
“I guess we’re killing then fucking?” Two sets of eyes swing my way. And by my way, I do mean my dick that’s fighting against the denim of my jeans.
