The Wrong Kind of Love - Page 26

Silence fills the kitchen as a pool of blood creeps across the tile, settling in the grout.

Jude chucks the knife in the sink, then grabs mugs from the overhead cabinet and fills them with coffee. Like it’s a normal morning, and his dead uncle isn’t bleeding out only feet away. Outside, I remain still and silent. Inside I’m screaming, staring at that puddle of blood as it reaches and spreads.

Jude presses a steaming cup into my shaking hands and places a tender kiss to my forehead. “I promise, no one will ever hurt you again.”

Something flutters in my chest. He just killed his own uncle, in his kitchen, and that singular act feels like a binding vow.

Jude

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I killed my uncle, and if I ever questioned whether I had a soul or not, that question has now been answered.

I don’t.

Because I don’t have a shred of regret for what I did to him. I don’t give a shit that his body is rotting in a Dayton landfill.

I glance over the Student Visa for Sarah Jones one of my guys dropped off, staring at the picture of Tor in the corner. This is the best I could do. Once West gets that body, she can be on her way back to England, and maybe she can somehow pretend these past few weeks never happened. Maybe she can have an almost normal life. And maybe I can force myself to forget her…

I hear footsteps in the hall and shove the document back inside the envelope just as Tor comes into the kitchen. My gaze traces over her lean legs, loving the way they look in my shirt. Like hell I can forget her.

She pours a bowl of cereal and grabs a coffee, then joins me at the table. Like this is normal. Nothing about this is normal. I fuck women, I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with them, or hold them. I sure as hell don’t crave them–except her.

Tor watches me over the mug of her coffee. Like she’s concerned. And I guess, to the normal person, the fact that I murdered my own blood would be concerning. “Are you okay?” she asks for the hundredth fucking time.

“I was fine last night. I’m fine today. I’ll be fine when I’m six feet under, too.” I lean back in my chair and fish a cigarette from my pocket. “Stop asking.”

She spoons Cheerios into her mouth with a roll of her eyes.

I push up from the table. “After you finish breakfast, you need to get dressed.”

She frowns. “Where are we going?”

“Caleb has a dayshift, and I have some things I need to do.” Not that I want to take her with me to Elysium, but I’m sure as hell not leaving her here alone since Tom knows where I live.

The spoon is halfway to her mouth when she pauses. “Is it safe?”

“No. But safer than staying here.”

She stands up and takes her barely eaten bowl to the sink. “Reassuring, Jude. Thank you.”

***

I park by Elysium’s back door and cut the engine just as the delivery truck pulls in behind me.

At least I know Gabe’s delivery won’t contain a million dollars…

I take Caleb’s ball cap from the dash and slap it on Tor’s head, giving the bill a tug so it covers most of her face. “Keep that pulled down.”

“This hat smells like feet.”

“I don’t give a shit.” I get out and round the front to open her door, waving at the driver to give me a minute. Tor looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Huh.” Then she hops out.

I slam her door. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just didn’t take you for chivalrous.” She smirks. “You’re kind of a caveman.”

I feel my brow furrow when I unlock the back door. A damn caveman. “Would you just get the fuck inside.”

“Exhibit A.”

I take a deep breath, pretending I don’t like this crap. “You realize you're annoying as hell.”

The scent of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume hit me when I shove Tor through the doorway. She mumbles something under her breath about the scent of cheap sex, but I’m too busy staring at her ass to make sense of it. Damn, Armani makes some good jeans…

She stops by the stage and looks at me. “Is this your–establishment?”

Establishment. Cute. “It’s a strip club. And yes.”

“It’s…lovely.”

Condescending as hell. “Yeah? Well, you should see it when the girls are here…”

She narrows her eyes at me, and that right there–it’s jealousy, and damn, does my cock eat it up. With a flick of her hair, she turns away and heads for the bar. “I need a drink.”

“It’s ten in the morning…”

“It’s been a rough week.”

I stare at her ass as she heads toward the bar, turning away when she slips behind the counter. Marney’s due in any minute. He’ll definitely have fun with this.

Tags: Stevie J. Cole, L.P. Lovell Erotic
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