Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(25)

“You can’t smoke in here,” she says, her brows drawing together.

I take a drag and blow out the smoke before replying. “Says who?”

She points at a small sign hanging above the bathroom door.

I shrug and take another drag. Too late to stop now. Just like this train wreck of a situation.

She licks her bottom lip, and says, “Can I have one too?”

I frown and glare at her, taking another drag. Is she serious?

“For old time’s sake,” she says, holding out her hand.

Sighing, I take another cig from my packet and give her one. She puts it in her mouth and leans in so I can light it. She takes a drag, and when she blows out the smoke, she moans.

“God … that’s good.”

The way she says it, so sexually charged, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have to will my boner down right now. Goddammit.

I swiftly turn and face the mirror on the wall before she sees. I’m still watching her, though, and from the obvious smirk on her face, she definitely saw.

I take another drag, then another. I’ll probably finish the entire pack before the night is over.

Fuck me and that fucking girl sitting on that bed. If it wasn’t for her and those goddamn bombs she set up, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Why the fuck did she do it anyway? Does she hate my uncle that much? More than she hates me?

When I’m sure my boner is gone, I turn around and lean against the dresser with folded arms. “Tell me why you blew up the hotel.”

“I already told you I’m not gonna tell,” she says, making a face. “You should’ve told me you’ve gone deaf, Brandon.”

I ignore the obvious dig and pry some more. “Is it because of me? Because I work for him?”

“No, but it’s a nice coincidence that I almost got to take you down too,” she says, cocking her head to taunt me.

I’m done playing games, so I push out my cig into the wood on the dresser and march toward her, shoving my gun straight between her eyes. I unlock the safety.

“Give me one good fucking reason not to pull this trigger right now,” I say.

She gazes up at me with that same courageous look, her radiant eyes still as beautiful and wicked as they were before … before we were ruined to ashes. “I can’t.”

The clock hanging on the wall ticks eerily loud. Seconds feel like an eternity as I decide her fate. Just one pull on the trigger and she’s gone forever. Evaporated. Just like my happy memories of her that single devastating night.

I could finish this right now. Make my uncle happy. Make my papa proud. Make the world whole again.

But it wouldn’t change a thing about the past.

Slowly, her hand rises to meet mine, our eyes never breaking contact. When our fingers touch, lightning shoots through my veins. She wraps her hand around mine and grasps the gun.

“You can’t,” she says, her voice unwavering, just like her spirit.

My throat feels dry. After all these years, she can still read my mind and heart as if it’s child’s play. Fuck.

I sigh and lower the gun, tucking it back into my holster. I’ll use it if I need to, but right now, I can’t kill her. Not until I find out why she did what she did.

We hate each other so much, yet we’re forced to be in each other’s vicinity. It’s like someone up there has decided they want us together. After not seeing her for so long, it’s hard for me to believe she’s actually here, in the flesh.

We parted ways on such bad terms. It’s still in the forefront of my mind and probably hers too. It’s on the tip of her tongue, the seething hatred spewing from her eyes. She loathes me as much as I despise her.

But we had love … once.

A long time ago, everything was different, so different, and I don’t even know how we ended up this way. Where did we go wrong?



*

Past

September 21st



I go to the Burrell farm on my own accord. I’ve never been invited onto the property, not by Dixie or her family. I know how they feel about me and my papa, but I gotta try someday. I don’t think they’re as racist as my papa tries to make me believe. He just doesn’t like them for some fucked-up reason.

But screw him. I’m going to find my girl and hang out with her instead.

I walk onto the property and press the doorbell. A dog barks loudly, so I straighten my back, wondering if I’m gonna have to defend myself. However, a hulking man opens the door and blocks its path. He kicks the bulldog in the side, and growls, “Back off, Sparky.”

“Uh … hi, Mr. Burrell,” I say.

“What do you want?” he spits, looking around. “If you’re trying to sell me stuff, I’m not interested.”

He tries to close the door, but I put my foot inside first, stopping him. “Wait. I’m not selling you anything. I just wanna know if your daughter is home.”

“My daughter?” He frowns, narrowing his eyes. “Wait a minute … are you Locklear’s son?”

“Yes, but—”

“No,” he says.

He tries to shut the door again, but I persist. “Wait, sir—”

“I’m not having one of them redskins hang out with my daughter. No fucking way,” he barks. “Leave.”