Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Electrolytes.
“Thanks,” I said, untwisting the cap and chugging the contents.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been running, but I did know that it was too long without a drink.
“You’re gonna get a damn heat stroke running in this,” Croft, not usually a worrier, scolded.
“How’d you know where I was?”
“Aviela told me she saw you running when she drove down the shore… then still running over an hour later when she drove back.”
“Why didn’t she stop?”
Unlike Croft, our sister absolutely was the worrying sort. Squarely stuck in the middle, and the only girl, she worried both about the recklessness of her older brothers and our little brother.
“I think Aviela knows when a situation is a sister thing and when it’s a me thing.”
“This isn’t a you thing either. It’s not a thing at all. I needed to blow off some steam.”
“Blowing off steam is one thing. Risking heat exhaustion is another. What’s going on? You’ve been weird as fuck for days.”
“Weird as fuck because I didn’t want to party twice?”
“It’s more than that, and you know it. What’s going on up by the city?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
My brother and I had a deal. We had our location on for each other. I’d turned it off the first time I went to confront Carmen. But I’d forgotten when I’d left that morning.
Of course, he checked if he was already suspicious about me.
“Went for a ride.”
“A ride. To some random duplex. Then some fancy-ass house?”
He’d not only looked me up, he’d researched where I’d been. That was so unlike Croft that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to worry about that.
“The tracking was probably off.”
Croft’s head tilted, scenting the lie like a hound.
It was hard to lie to your twin.
I’d maybe only pulled it off once or twice in our lives. And only because it was a life-or-death situation.
“Rune, who is Carmen Torres?”
How’d he even guess it was Carmen and not Sofia?
Croft’s lips tilted up, revealing his one dimple. “The little sister is too young for you.”
Right.
If he wanted to assume this was just a hookup sort of situation, I could lean into that.
“I mean, I guess it makes sense.”
“What does?”
“Why you don’t want to hang out with the club girls. Carmen the jealous type?”
“It’s… not like that.”
“Well, it’s like something. Who travels an hour for a booty call? When there’s plenty right at home?”
“Someone who likes what they got a taste of?”
It wasn’t a lie. So it didn’t land like one. It just wasn’t my truth.
Though I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of Carmen.
And how fucked up was that? Wanting the woman who wanted me dead?
“Rune.”
“Croft.”
“A man who just had a great hookup doesn’t go on a punishing run in the sweltering heat.”
“You’re reading too much into this.”
“I don’t think I am.” He sighed and looked off toward the waves. “Are you in danger?”
“No.” She hadn’t even been able to pull the trigger before she interacted with me. Now that she had, I was a solid ninety-eight percent sure there was no chance she was going to try again.
“If that changes, you gonna tap me in?”
“I always have before.”
“And you will this time.”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Now get on your bike. I’m following you home in case you lose consciousness or some shit from all the sweating.”
“When did you become such a mom?” I asked, but followed him back toward our bikes.
I wouldn’t admit it aloud, but I felt like shit. I absolutely pushed it too hard. I needed a shower, some food, and more electrolytes.
So I followed Croft back to the club, ordered food for everyone, then jumped in the shower with another bottle of electrolytes, chugging as the cool water cascaded down my body.
And what did I think about in that shower?
Carmen.
Bent over in those damn biker shorts of hers as she scrubbed the baseboards, her round ass giving me all sorts of ideas I didn’t need to be thinking about a woman who wanted me dead.
“Fuck,” I grumbled when my cock got all sorts of ideas of what I should have done instead of tell her that she was cleaning wrong. It would have been so easy to walk over there, kneel behind her, pull down her shorts and panties…
No.
Dammit.
I couldn’t be fantasizing about fucking a woman who clearly hated me. I mean, once I figured out why, and if she was willing… I wasn’t so good of a man that I wasn’t down for a hate fuck.
But in the interest of not confusing shit further, I didn’t reach down and give myself the relief I was craving. I tossed my drink into the trash, then scrubbed my skin until the sticky sweat feeling was gone, climbed out, and dried off.
I walked out of the bathroom in a pair of basketball pants and nearly jumped out of my fucking skin.
“The fuck?” I asked the man sitting on the edge of my bed. “What are you doing in my room?”