Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Opening the door, I kick off my flip-flops, drop the new phone on the counter, and make my way to my bathroom.
Ignoring the faint, lingering smell of Jude’s cologne in the living room.
The bathroom is a bit of a mess. The shower curtain is yanked to one side and the baby shampoo I wash Abel with is opened and tipped over. Half the bottle down the drain.
A part of me wants to get angry at the waste.
But how can I be angry at a dead man?
A dead man who washed my baby…
Shoving that thought from my mind, I pick the bottle up and screw on the lid. Then I start the water.
Stripping out of my dress, I ball it up and toss it into the corner. Planning to burn it later.
I’d burn this whole place down if I could get away with it, I think to myself as I step under the water.
Burn it all from my memories.
The club, the stupid uniform.
Everything that led me to this moment of awful reality.
Squeezing my eyes shut against the spray, I wash up. Flashes of Jude’s face haunting me as I work shampoo into my scalp.
The way he looked at me… as if he wanted to rip me apart and fuck me silly…
The way he looked at Abel like he was utterly enchanted and would do anything for him.
Kyle never looked at Abel like that.
Jude showed Abel more love and concern last night than Kyle ever did. And Kyle has known Abel for months and months…
Fuck.
Scrubbing my loofa over my skin, I try to erase Jude’s touch from my body but I only end up making myself bleed.
Which is fitting, given that Jude’s blood is all over my hands.
I didn’t pull the trigger but I might as well have.
Oh god, I hope it was quick.
I hope they didn’t make him suffer…
Slapping my hand against the tile, I struggle to hold myself upright.
The full gravity of what I’ve done finally slamming into me.
He’s gone.
Gone forever.
He’s not coming back.
And it doesn’t feel worth it.
It truly doesn’t feel fucking worth it.
For so long, I’ve felt like if I only had more money, everything would be better. Easier.
If I had security, I could finally feel at ease.
But I never wanted it this way.
I never wanted it at the cost of someone else’s life.
Blood money.
It’s all dirty blood money.
The steam of the shower starting to choke me, I twist the water off and stand in my bathtub, shivering.
I don’t want the money. I’d rather be forever poor.
If I could take it back, I would. In a heartbeat.
Jude scared the shit out of me, and I know he had a part in my father’s death…
But I don’t want him dead.
Oh god, I don’t want him dead.
Stumbling out of the tub, I yank a towel off the rod and wrap it tight around me.
My thoughts go wild, struggling to accept the absolute finality of the situation.
He can’t be gone yet. He can’t.
He was just here…
Maybe there’s still time to fix this. Some way to get ahold of him and warn him before it’s too late.
Uncle Mickey didn’t say he was dead. In fact, he said I have to wait for it to be confirmed…
Jude could still be alive and breathing.
Filled with the desperate need to make this right, to save Jude, I yank open the bathroom door and rush over to the counter.
Before I can reach my phone to call Club 69 though, my front door starts to open.
Freezing in place, my heart pounds with both fear and hope.
Did my uncle lie to me?
It wouldn’t be the first time.
The world around me slows down.
My breath stills as I watch the door slowly open.
My entire being needing it to be Jude.
Needing it more than I ever needed anything.
But the body revealed when the door finally opens isn’t Jude.
It’s the last person I want to see on the entire fucking earth.
Kyle sneers at me as he stomps inside and slams the door behind him. “There you are, you stupid fucking bitch.”
9
Jude
Concerns.
Concerns about my family.
How fucking dare Simon have any doubt in my choosing of a bride.
Whatever fucking concerns he or the brotherhood has about my family could have fucking waited until I had them safely in my home.
For that matter, he could have expressed these concerns at the meeting we are supposed to have soon.
This absolute fucking absurdity is testing my patience. I’ve selected my bride. There is no other choice but to move forward with my decision.
The very fucking nerve of them even suggesting there is any type of concern that can’t be fucking dealt with is absurd. Everything under the sun can be easily dealt with by a blade between the ribs.
I should poison Simon, plain and simple. I should sprinkle a little belladonna in his evening meal, that would do.