“What’s your problem anyway?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine again. “You’re not exactly making a great first impression.”
I almost want to smile at her fucking attitude, but there’s no way in hell I’ll be giving her that satisfaction. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, kid. Why don’t you run along and go play with your dolls like a good little girl.”
I’m really struggling not to smile now as her eyes widen again in shock. When her lips open, forming a perfect little o, all I can think is she has the most fuckable mouth I’ve ever seen. That thought only makes my cock even harder.
Sweet Jesus, what is she doing to me?
I’m surprised I almost feel bad for the way I’m treating her, but riling her up is way too much fun. I’m not about to stop now.
“Well that’s just plain rude. Something pretty shitty must’ve happened in your life to give you such a bad attitude.” She hit the nail right on the head. It sure did, I want to say, but I don’t. Why does her saying that piss me off even more?
I hate that in less than a minute, she has already seen through my façade. What is she, some kind of a crazy clairvoyant or something? My eyes lock with hers again, and the sympathetic look I see on her face makes me dislike her even more.
“Nope. I’m just a bastard, and stop fucking looking at me like that. You’re creeping me the hell out.”
“Like what?” she huffs placing her hands on her hips.
“Like you feel sorry for me. I don’t want or need your sympathy. The sooner you learn that the better off we’ll all be, Princess. Do yourself a favour kid, stay the fuck away from me.” She gasps as my words and a satisfied smile crosses my face.
Mission accomplished.
“Later Larry,” I say to the dog, giving him one last scratch behind the ears before walking away.
“His name’s Lassie, arsehole,” she snaps to my retreating back.
“Not to me it isn’t,” I chuckle as I walk towards the house. “You won’t catch me calling him that pansy-arse name.” Maybe living here isn’t going to be as bad as I thought.
“Come on boy,” I hear her say, exhaling an exasperated breath.
As I walk up the porch stairs to my new hell, I hear her front door slam shut. Surprisingly, this makes the smile instantly drop from my face. I actually feel shitty for the way I just treated her. I don’t often feel remorseful for my actions.
Why am I such a bastard? That’s right, I was born one.
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STRAIGHT FLUSHED
A hot pursuit novel
By
Emerson Shaw
Chapter One
Through the large panes of glass the night wind whispered, rustling the leaves on the trees. In Cincinnati, as soon as the calendar lands on September, the memo goes out and Mother Nature flips her switch. Autumn had unofficially arrived. In a few weeks decaying leaves would be shriveled up, crispy and brown, lining the streets in piles. The roads outside were already littered with a few of those that had broken loose from the trees, clinging to the pavement, plastered there by the misty rain that silently fell.
I staggered through the automatic doors glancing over my shoulder. The temperature had dropped dramatically from the sweltering heat of the afternoon in which I’d almost died.
In like a lamb, out like a lion, I repeated in my head.
A cool breeze brushed my cheek. I had a general distaste for autumn, but in light of recent events, I hated it even more.
The smell of cigarette smoke from the patient sitting out front puffing away stung my nose. I held my breath while I walked through his noxious cloud. I hate the smell of smoke, but it was a free country, and people would do as they liked, even if it meant endangering the lives of all those around while they blazed away sitting next to a highly flammable tank of oxygen. To each his own. I wanted to be holding a warm mug of coffee in my hands and snuggled under a blanket. My reality couldn’t have been farther from that dream.
I was pretty sure no one had followed me, or I hoped—I’d had enough surprises and disappointments to hold me over for a while. I sighed, reliving it all over in a moment. The memories quickly rushed in like a stream swelling after a hard rain. My heart started to race and sweat saturated my skin as regret, anxiety, and blame settled into my bones. Then, I dropped the gate. Yep, all caught up. No need to get lost in the rising waters when I still had to fulfill my promise.
I left the hospital against medical advice. I only needed to make sure I wasn’t dying. And as it turned out, I wasn’t. When I’d been rolled in, I was certain my spleen had exploded or some other vital organ had been obliterated inside my body. My nose was broken—that I’d been certain of. The cracking sound on impact was like someone snapping a crisp stalk of celery in my ear and the pain was blinding.