Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I can’t. “Just let me leave,” I whisper to my knees.

Why did this happen? Matt seemed nice. I wipe my eyes and look up at Kellan. “Did you guys set me up for... some reason?”

His eyes, on mine, are calm and blue. I find no malice there. Also, no outrage at the question, at my insinuation that Kellan Perfect Walsh is in cahoots with Matt, a known unsavory.

Kellan shifts his weight. His gaze drops to his feet, then drags back up to mine. “Not in the way you think.”

“What does that mean?”

He lifts his chin. He tilts his head at something past me. “See that vase?”

I turn around. I half expect something hard to come down on my head, but Kellan just waits while my gaze drifts over the built-in bookshelves lining most of the left wall of the room. Just beyond the mini library, set close to the corner by the top, right bedpost, is an antique wash table—also oak—that holds, among other items, a black glass vase.

“Yes,” I rasp. I see the vase.

“Go get it.”

I turn back to him, so I can see his face. Perfection. Warmth spreads through me, chased by nervous cold. He nods toward the vase.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Just do it.”

“Where’s my gun?”

He reaches down and pulls it from his left boot like a cowboy. He holds it out to me. I swallow as I take it.

It’s too light. Fear rips through me. “You disarmed my gun?”

He huffs a laugh. “Of course. You shoot, I bleed—and we’re a long way from a decent hospital.”

“I want my bullets back!”

He nods past me. “Go get the vase, Cleo.”

“Are you going to give my bullets back?” I tuck the gun into the waist of my pants.

“Drop back by here one day, without the gun.”

I glare at him and walk around the foot of the bed, past the curtained side of it, and to the table. The vase is vaguely fishbowl shaped, about that size as well, and it looks empty. As soon as I pick it up, I can feel it’s not. There’s something fuzzy in the bottom. After only a second, I realize...”It’s my stuff.”

A glance behind me reveals that Kellan’s got his poker face on. I reach in and curl my hand around my long lost nuggets—but... they’re not nuggets. This is... one long bud? I draw it out and frown down at it. “I don’t understand.”

I bring it to my nose. Inhale its sweety-sour scent.

“Can you smell a hint of grape?”

I set the vase down on the bed. “I’m confused...”

He flicks his fingers. “Come here, Cleo.”

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but my hands are shaking. Kellan doesn’t take the bud from me. He nods down at the brown chair I was in before, and I find I have the urge to do as he asks. “Have a seat,” he orders.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Even as I say that, I’m sitting.

“That strain’s called The Grape Escape. It’ll knock you on your ass. Unlike the swag you sell.”

I frown down at the long bud. Back at Kellan. Unlike that shit you sell...”Are you saying you... ?” I shake my head. “I must be missing something.”