Page 127 of Insidious Heart
I stomp into the living room and grab the first piece of broken furniture I find, launching the end table at the fireplace with a feral yell.
How could she choose him over me?
The coffee table is next, flying through the foyer before crashing into the wall.
He beats her. He keeps her locked away from the world. He almost fucking killed her.
My fist goes through the mirror by the front door, tiny shards of glass sticking out of my glove.
How could she love him and not me?
I freeze as that thought echoes in my head, the revelation that not only do I have all the feelings for Stevie but I want her to love me in return, moving like lightning through my grey matter until something finally clicks into place.
Stevie doesn’t want me anymore.
She won’t ever love me.
And that means Beau Williams is fucking dead.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
VICTOR
I parkmy hands on my hips and scowl as I pace the junkyard,pissed offnot a strong enough phrase for what I’m feeling at the moment.
Which is bullshit, by the way.
Feelings. Emotions.
Physical reactions to internal shit.
It’s all total BS and I am so fucking over it I could kill something.
Iwasgoing to kill something as a matter of fact, but it seems as though I’ll have to wait.
“Why the fuck are you naked?”
With a groan, I turn around to see Pope and Little John lumbering toward me, and if I wasn’t in such a shit mood I’d have to laugh at how adorable they are with their matching scowls.
“I’m always naked. I was born that way,Johnathon.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m well aware of that, but you’re prancing around out here with your junk flopping in the wind while you have a panic attack.”
“Hardly,” I scoff. “I’mangry, you merry old fuck. Angry and slightly concerned because I have a problem.”
“So you said on the phone,” Pope grunts as he reaches for my jeans that are sitting on the hood of the closest semi. “Cover up your dick while you tell us about it.”
Instead of doing what he demanded right away, I gyrate my hips and helicopter mydickat the holy man for a couple of quick seconds before I start to get dressed. “Happy now, your holiness?”
“Idiot.”
“Snuggle butt,” I quip as I buckle my belt. “Anyway… Flirting later, shop talk now.”
Pope motions for me to continue, and for a split second I don’t want to.
It’s already bad enough I’m going to have to tell Little John what happened, but he’s old, and he likes me for some fucked up reason, and he’s used to my bullshit so he’ll get over it pretty quickly then jump intoretired hitman mode.
Pope on the other hand?
