A smirk ticked up at the corner of my mouth, though it was hard to keep the lightness in my voice. “Who said anything about love, darlin’? Don’t think either of us are searching for forever.”
Saying it felt like a goddamn lie.
Not when Salem was the first woman since Kennedy who had my heart tripping that direction.
Only one who could make my mind stray toward the destruction that would be waiting.
Because looking at her? It made me feel like something ugly in my life had gone good, and there was a speck of the dead parts inside that wondered what forever might feel like with her.
Thoughts turning to what if?
This girl who’d whispered the words to me as if she’d understood them. They were the same ones I’d given Eden because I’d wanted Trent to experience all this world had to offer. Wanted someone to see him as whole and good rather than the vile, piece of trash Kennedy had seen me as once she’d known the truth.
The way Kennedy had fucking shaken, terrified of me, as she’d packed their things.
I’d tried to stop her. Promised it was done. That I’d never step foot in that cesspool again. That the sins were over.
That I’d never kill again.
It’d only made her move faster.
She’d refused to even look at me when she’d gone. She’d parted with a warning that she’d issued toward the floor. “If you try to find us, I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell them everything.”
The truth was, what she knew had only scratched the surface of the corruption that had been our lives, and I would have gladly taken any punishment if it wouldn’t have implicated my brothers. So, I’d let her leave. Watched her go. Guessed it had been standing there helpless, with nothing to do or say, no defense, no reason to give her to stay, that had hurt the worst.
The worry that maybe she was right.
The slamming of the door behind them the gavel slamming down with a guilty verdict.
From that day on, I’d waited. Kept that promise. Tried to be the man she could one day trust to come home to.
I gazed down at Salem.
My guts tangled, and my heart raced.
Blasphemy.
Traitorous.
Way she made me feel.
“Jud.” Salem said my name.
Reverence in the word.
My spirit flailed, not sure what direction it was supposed to be heading.
I reached out and traced her lips. “This sweet, fuckin’ mouth. Best thing I ever felt.”
Thunderbolt eyes flared, and a heave of air whispered from her lips.
Need gusted in the space.
More than just the lust.
That was the biggest problem of them all.
Had to get it together before I crossed another line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
I forced myself to straighten, and I sent her a casual grin. “Your car should be up and running by next week, but until then, there’s a car out front with your name on it.”
I pulled the keys from my back pocket and tossed them to her desk.
I’d called in a favor to a friend yesterday evening, and he’d dropped it off early this morning.
Salem’s brow pinched. “Jud…no. You’ve already done too much. I can’t accept this.”
“Sure, you can. That’s what friends are for, darlin’, don’t you know?”
I spun on my boots and stalked back out into the shop, deciding it was high time to throw myself into work and shuck this feeling that demanded I go back to her and confess the rest.
The base wickedness of what I’d done.
I clomped across the shiny black floors, trying to ignore Brock as I passed, except his smart ass was spewing his bullshit the way he always did.
“Ahh, you’re looking awful glum for someone who just walked straight outta heaven. Did the girl come to her senses and shoot you down, or did you turn all growly asshole and break her sweet little heart? Maybe I should go in there in case she needs a shoulder to cry on.”
Fucker rocked his hips.
I saw red.
Diverted course.
My hands curled into fists, and this rage I kept trying to suppress rose up and threatened to get free.
Proof I needed to keep my ass as far away from Salem as possible because the girl made me crazy.
All twisted up.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Brock. Not going to tell you again.”
He cracked a grin. “Ahh, come on, boss, what’s got you all fired up? Blue balls or you just can’t get it up?”
A blur flew across the shop.
In a flash, Brock was pushed against the side of the truck he was working on. Darius had a crowbar pressed to his throat.
What the fuck?
“Whoa, man, I was just joking around.” Brock squeaked it.
Darius grunted and pressed harder, pinning him so hard against the metal that Brock kept angling back farther and farther until his feet were barely touching the ground.
Brock wheezed and gasped, his hands frantic where he struggled against the rod.