Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“I love you,” she said quietly, but those three words have so many more things she wasn’t saying. I hated that I’d ever made my mother cry.

“Love you, too,” I replied and hung up the phone.

Sliding it into my pocket, I turned around and glanced up at The Pope. If I didn’t find Damon, the shit was going to hit the fan again, and I’d probably never be able to look my father in the eye.

Walking toward the alley around the corner, I spotted Banks leaned up against the brick wall with her hands in her pockets.

“What are you doing?” I’d let her leave an hour ago.

“Waiting for my ride.”

“You don’t have a car?” I asked.

“Have you ever seen me with a car?”

I faltered. Well, no. She was always chauffeured around by those idiots.

And speak of the devil…

I looked up, seeing the same black SUV charge up to the curb, pulling to a quick stop. David and that kid—I forgot his name—sat in the front seats, shooting their eyes between Banks and me.

Whenever she called, they sure came running, didn’t they?

I walked around her and into the alley. “I’ll take you home. Get in.”

“Like I said, it’s covered,” she bit out.

I stopped, turning and meeting her eyes.

“Besides, I’m going to Thunder Bay,” she added. “I need to take care of a couple things.”

“Awesome. I’m heading there, as well.” And I turned, walking for my car and unlocking it.

I wasn’t planning on going to Thunder Bay, but I guess now I was.

And I wasn’t jealous. I just didn’t like how these guys always showed up, acting like she was still theirs.

She wasn’t, and everyone needed reminding.

I opened my car door, staring at her over the hood. “Banks.”

She stood there a moment, shooting a sideways glance at the guys and looking embarrassed. She probably wanted to argue, but she did what she was told. Walking over and opening the door, she climbed in, slammed the door, and didn’t bother putting her seatbelt on.

I shot the guys a look, seeing them scowl back at me. I almost laughed.

Backing out of my parking space, I swung the car around and sped past them, out of the alley and into the quiet street.

She didn’t say anything, and I let her be silent as I drove. I was pushing her around a lot lately, and I didn’t want that to be every interaction we had. I liked talking to her.

After Michael’s party a couple days ago, I’d stayed out of her way and let her stay out of mine, more because I was confused, rather than angry.

I was supposed to be searching for Damon. I was supposed to be cleaning up what he had on me.

But the other night, in that dark hallway at Delcour, everything came flooding back. How easy it was to engage with her, talk to her, and how much I loved those rare moments of vulnerability when she almost needed me. And wanted me.

She was such a mystery, but right now, the only truth I kept wanting was what I would get with her underneath me, between the sheets. What would her eyes look like? What words would she whisper? Where would she put her hands on me?

But she was loyal to the Torrance’s. How could I do what I needed to do and keep her?