Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(72)

He marches past me, slogging through the mud as if he’s got something to do. “Dad?”

“I don’t care what you do, just get it done. Understand?” he says.

I nod. “I’ll need to use the shed. And some tools.”

He waves it off like it’s no biggie, but he just doesn’t care. “I’m off to town. You’d better be gone when I get back,” he growls, and he slams his door and drives off, leaving me to fend for myself. Just as he always does.

Fuck. Sometimes I really wish he wasn’t my dad. But he’s all I have left.

On my way to the shed, I stop by the new farmhouse and gaze inside. My dad’s stash is gone, but he’s already started growing new ones. I can’t believe how fast he’s changed his mind. One minute, he swears he’s done right after Josiah stole the entire batch, and then the next, he wants to continue where he left off. It’s as if he just doesn’t learn. Like he wants to punish himself.

But it’s cruel and not to mention dangerous. If the cops stop by and check out the farmhouse, we’re screwed.

I wish he’d just quit. But I guess that’s my dad. He doesn’t ever give up. Not even when faced with the impossible.

How will we survive this? We don’t have the cash to buy more plants. We barely have enough to survive a few more weeks. What is he going to do? There’s no way he can grow these plants in time, let alone sell them to someone other than Josiah. We’ve got no other connections. This is it.

It’s done.

He just doesn’t wanna believe it. Typical.

Sighing, I turn around and go back to the shed I use as a workshop. If we can’t get the money from the sale back, at least I can try to burn Josiah’s business to the ground a second time. I can ask some of my contacts to hook me up with some more explosives. It’ll probably cost me an arm and a leg … or maybe my pussy …but at least then I can have my revenge. And maybe I can make my dad proud.

I take a deep breath and fetch my tools, then sit down behind my trusted workbench. Last time I was here, I was still crafting the bomb I used to blow up a quarter of the building. It wasn’t a complete success, but it wasn’t a failure either, so I’m gonna make the same bomb.

This time, I won’t make the same mistakes.

I’ll make it bigger, stronger.

I’ll be more careful, more incognito.

And most importantly, I won’t run in to Brandon fucking Locklear.

I turn on the light and start working. I don’t have much time, and the clock won’t fucking wait until I’m done, so I’d better get moving.

However, the moment I lift my wrench, a shadow in the corner makes me drop it.

I scream.

Something covers my mouth.

A cloth and a hand pushing it down.

“Shh, it’s me.”

My eyes widen.

“Don’t scream.”

“Brandon?” I mumble as he gently removes the cloth. When I spin around, I whack him on the chest. “Why the fuck did you have to scare me like that?!”

He snorts. “Old habits die hard.”

My heart beats in my throat from the surprise. “How the fuck did you find me?”

“I tracked the phone you stole. Matteo always keeps an extra in his car,” he says, shrugging. “Simple.”

Simple. Right. If I’d known there was another phone, I’d have taken that one too. But of course, Brandon outsmarted me yet again. It’s only because that car belonged to his buddy from his uncle’s hotel. Or ex buddy. I still don’t know for sure what Brandon’s goal is. Or why he keeps chasing after me when I’m trying to pick up the ruins of my life.

I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, raising a brow. “Back at your dad’s place?”

“None of your fucking business,” I reply, folding my arms. “You just had to follow me. Couldn’t leave me the fuck alone, could you?”

“Nope.” He places both hands on the workbench behind me, trapping me between his arms. “You know I can’t do that, Dixie.”

“Why?” I ask. “Give me one good reason.”

“Because I owe it to myself,” he says, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “To you. To us.”

“Oh, give me a break,” I scoff, and I turn my head.

But he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “You know I don’t like it when you act like a little stuck-up princess.”

“I’m no one’s princess,” I spit, jerking free.

“You should be,” he muses.

And for some reason, that makes my heart jump a little. Fuck. I hate that.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a master at grand escapes?” He grabs a strand of my hair and twirls it around his index finger. “I’m impressed.”

“Shouldn’t have left me there all alone,” I say, still mad that he did.

“I needed some time to think,” he says, “but I’m glad you missed me.”

“I didn’t,” I reply, folding my arms, but I definitely feel a twinge in my chest. I won’t admit that to him, though. No way.

“Of course you didn’t,” he says, winking fast … but I noticed.