You've Got Fail(20)

“It’s all my fault.” Her small body shook with sobs.

“No.” I tightened my grip on her and only let up when I feared her frail bones might break.

“I messed up.” The pain in her voice brought tears to my eyes. “I messed up so bad.”

“Shh.” I rubbed her back. “We’re past that now. Okay? I don’t care what you did. You don’t deserve this.”

“You don’t either, and it’s all my fault. All me.”

“Hey.” I pulled her away from me, her eyes wet with tears as another sob tore from her lungs. “We’re in this together. You’re my sister. We will always be in this together.”

Her thin arms wrapped around me, hugging me tight. “Thank you.”

I ran my hand down her hair the same way our mother used to. “I love you. We’re going to get out of this. Don’t worry. I’m working on it.” I refused to cry, refused to weaken in the face of the hand we were dealt. I’d pay what Hannah owed, and then we’d be done with this apartment, with this city, with this shitty excuse for a life. We’d start fresh.

Patting her back, I pulled away. “Besides, when you ugly cry, I worry that your face will stick that way.”

She laughed through her tears. “I don’t ugly cry.”

“You do. You look like a gremlin.”

Her laughter overtook her sobs. “Mom said I look like an angel.”

I arched a brow. “Only when you’re asleep. And not snoring. Which is never.”

Her laughter subsided into a sheepish grin. “Jerk.”

“You love me.” The iron band around my heart loosened the tiniest bit as a spark lit in her eyes, the despair lessening just enough for the old Hannah to shine through.

“Maybe a little.” She shrugged. “Now what about that food you promised me?”

“I’ll order it.” Snagging my phone off the bed, I rose and headed toward the living room. Once I was out of Hannah’s sight, I leaned against the wall and bit the back of my hand to keep from screaming.





9





Willis





The limo rolled to a stop in front of the same building where the cab had dropped Scarlet off the night I’d met her. She stood near the curb casually, as if it was completely normal for her to look like sex on a stick. As if it made total sense for a gorgeous vamp to be standing on a bustling street in downtown Manhattan in a small crimson dress, high black heels, and with her long hair cascading over one shoulder in waves of red.

“Holy shit.” I pulled at my collar, stuffing two fingers between my skin and the fabric. The air inside the limo turned from pleasantly cool to boiling.

The driver pulled to a stop despite the myriad of honks behind us.

He reached for his door, but I stopped him. “I got it.” I swung the passenger door open and got the full-on view of Scarlet.

Was I too young for heart problems? The organ stuttered, lost its footing, and splattered against my ribs as she slid into the limo, her smooth legs kissing the cool leather. Her scent washed over me, feminine and vanilla as she closed the door.

We pulled away from the curb and took the first right, heading toward the park.

“You okay, Sparky?” She smiled, her eyes glinting in the city lights.

I realized my fingers were still stuffed down my collar and pulled them away. “Fine. I’m fine.”

She opened her green handbag and pulled out a tube of lipstick and a mirror.

Jesus Christ, she’s trying to kill me. Twisting the tube, the too-phallic stick of deep red lip color appeared. She applied it, sweeping the shade across her lips while I watched. My mouth went dry, and I was dimly aware of my palms sweating.

She pursed her lips and inspected them in the mirror before cutting a glance to me. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“You clean up nice. Has anyone ever told you that?” She popped her lips, then stowed her lipstick and the mirror. Reaching out, she ran her fingers down my smooth jaw. “Clean shaven and dashing.”

I wanted to grab her wrist and kiss up her arm like we were in an episode of The Addams Family, but my hands remained at my sides—not without great effort on my part. She was a temptation, the perfect embodiment of Scarlet Rocket. A brighter, sexier, polished version of the ideal, all in a delectable package.

“Speechless is a cute look on you, Sparky.” She smiled and leaned back against the leather seats as we maneuvered through traffic.

“It’s just that you’re so, so…” My mind short-circuited as it tried to settle on one word to describe what a stunning creature she was.

Her big brown eyes focused on me, expectant, with maybe just a hint of self-consciousness.

“Pretty.” Ohmygodyoudumbass!

She smirked, the devil in her details. “For a writer, you have a terribly small vocabulary.”

I swallowed, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I mentally kicked myself over and over again right in the egg basket.

“Thank you all the same. I appreciate it.” She turned to watch the people walking along the busy sidewalks.

Awkward silence fell between us as I tried to clear my mind of the she-is-the-hottest-woman-I’ve-ever-seen haze. I reminded myself she was a thief and a liar. But, somehow, when I was close to her, none of that mattered. The same thing had happened at the photo shoot the previous day. She turned me around until I couldn’t trust myself.