Page 63 of Hate So Deep
Lauren
The following morning, I wake with a headache that persists through my shower and hasn’t waned by the time I stumble downstairs for breakfast.
I’m still reeling over the shit my mother spouted and it’s completely shitty because her cruelty ruined the night before Colt’s wedding.
We may not get along but even I know that’s some sick shit and my stomach roils at the implications.
What did she do and does my dad know about it?
To my surprise, I find Dirk in the kitchen when I enter and come to a stop before taking in the real estate.
Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, my eyes are drawn to a new tattoo that covers his chest and wraps around his navel.
What I presume to be an ancient language of some kind, I can only wonder what it says while I admire his pecs, the lovely skin of his abdominal muscles before stopping on the thin trail of hair disappearing into the band of his shorts.
I touched that skin once…ran my hands over the ridges of his abs and my fingers tingle to recreate the memory when he shifts, and I glance up.
Those deep dark eyes blaze at me and I bite my lip, my veins liquifying.
He takes one step toward me before the refrigerator door, which I hadn’t noticed open, swings closed, and Kayla says, “Should we make breakfast for everyone, babe?”
Of course, as soon as she speaks, the fire in his eyes banks and he turns to her to say, “Sure.”
When Kayla looks beyond his shoulder, her eyes narrow before she says, “Good. We worked up an appetite this morning. I need you ready for round two.”
Does she know that he held me last night after I lost my mind? Did he go to her after?
Maybe he told her about me, and they laughed about the situation…Princess Lauren, finally having her comeuppance.
This is when any residual desire I might have been foolishly harboring blinks out and I back out of the room.
Although Dirk swings around, I avoid his gaze when thank God, my phone buzzes against my ass.
“Hello?” I mumble.
“Ms. Stark?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Detective Adams from Northside PD, do you have a minute to talk?”
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Meeting Dirk’s eyes, I falter before turning away and whispering, “Um, yes.”
I’m halfway down the hall and almost to the living room when I turn and find him practically breathing down my neck.
“We need you to come down to the station,” the detective says while I wave my hand at Dirk.
He merely raises a brow to which I grunt my frustration.
“You okay, Ms. Stark?” the detective asks.
“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe it’s not a good time to talk,” I rasp, moving toward the bathroom.
“Look, something has come up. We really need to speak in person,” he says.
Did they find out something new? Maybe they finally spoke to Gage and think that I left with my brother that night.
