Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(51)

With a glazy stare he says, “Oh yeah, definitely … I forgot.”

My eyes twitch, and my nostrils flare. Jesus help me not to set this man on fire right now.

“You forgot you killed my brothers?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“I forgot hating is your hobby,” he says with an added fake smile.

“Only when it involves a specific type of asshole brand,” I say. “Or, in other words, anyone whose name ends in Locklear.”

“Anyone? No wonder … that explains a lot,” he says, rubbing his chin.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He shrugs.

I make a face. “You can’t just throw shit out there and not expect me to want to know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“You can’t expect me to believe you don’t know shit either,” he retorts.

“I don’t,” I say, crossing my arms.

I don’t know what he’s talking about or why he’s always the one acting all upset. It’s as if he thinks I did something to him when he’s the fucking murderer. I didn’t do anything to him except break up with him. That’s nothing compared to what he did.

“Fine,” he says, looking away.

“Fine,” I reply even louder, looking away too.

The tension is so sharp right now it feels like a hot iron poking in my back, but I try to ignore it as best as I can. I’m so pissed off right now, and I don’t even know why I care to begin with. He ruined my life, so I shouldn’t give a damn what he thinks or how he feels.

Yet the more he snarls at me, the angrier I get, and the more I wanna yell at him.

“You know, you could at least show a little bit more gratitude,” he says.

“WHAT?” I lean out of my seat just to look him in the eyes. “You did not just say that.”

He turns his head toward me, and with the most serious face in the world, he says, “I saved your ass back there.”

“So?” I frown.

“I could’ve just left you there in that motel room. My uncle would know just what to do with you,” he says, smirking like an idiot.

Damn, I really wanna bash his face into the windshield right now, but that would probably be my end too, and I don’t intend on dying yet. Not when I’ve just escaped death. But boy, does he love rubbing it in.

“Like you haven’t already made me pay for saving me,” I spit. “What else do you want me to do?”

“Be a little less bitchy maybe?” he says, cocking his head.

I narrow my eyes and pause for a second, trying not to explode. “Sorry, not possible.”

I’m honestly trying not to sound sarcastic as fuck, but I can’t help myself. Brandon Locklear brings out the worst in me.

“Figured,” he says.

My nails are digging into my skin right now. “You just want me to hate you, don’t you?”

“Why do you ask?” He raises his brow at me in such an infuriating way. With that chiseled chin and neatly trimmed stubble on that goddamn face, he is so fucking distracting I can’t even think straight.

“Well … because. You’re constantly trying to get under my skin,” I reply, shaking it off.

“Your skin or your clothes? Big difference. And I already partially got there,” he says, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips while he’s looking straight at me. “And I’m only interested in the latter … to make you pay, of course. Since you decided to ruin my life as well.”

I swallow and reach for the button that turns on the air conditioning. It’s so fucking hot in here all of a sudden.

But the moment I touch the button, so does he. Our fingers collide, and we both jerk back instantly. His eyes widen, and then he turns his head away from me, so I do the same to him.

Jesus, I can’t stand to look at those dark chocolatey eyes that demand attention wherever they set their gaze on.

After briefly closing my eyes, I suck in a breath and tell myself not to let him distract me again. Talking with the devil will do me no good. I gotta focus on getting away. That’s it. He’s nothing to me. Brandon has no place in my memories nor in my present or future plans. I have to eradicate him from my mind, my life … and from this planet.

And once I do, I’ll go after his uncle because we have unfinished business, and I’m not letting it go.

One glance at Brandon’s hand is all it takes to make him tighten his grip on his gun. He keeps it on the left side of the steering wheel so I can’t snatch it away from him without crashing the car.

He’s smart like that. But I know I can be just as smart, if not smarter. I just gotta think of a solution to this trouble I’m in. Obviously, throwing my body and my looks into the fight didn’t work as intended. He used me for his own pleasure, and it got me nowhere. So I gotta change my strategy a bit. Maybe push his buttons a different way …

After all, a man’s got more than only his dick to manipulate.

There’s a heart too, somewhere, shriveled up in that muscular chest of his. If he still has one, that is. But how do I find a way inside when he hates me the way he does? I gotta think about this.

I gaze out the window and sigh while the car begins to slow down as we near a diner.

I frown and look his way. “What are you doing?”