Sin
This skimpy fucking robe is a nightmare. Cash in hand, Laurel climbs off the couch and heads for the foyer to greet the delivery guy. As much as I know I shouldn’t look, I can’t keep my eyes from following her, from trying to steal a peek as the fabric moves against her long legs. Is she wearing panties? If she is, I want to drag them off her and get another peek at her ass, her pussy. I want to spread her thighs and have her for dinner.
Instead, we’ll have to sit here and try to pretend we don’t want to fuck each other while we eat Chinese food.
Goddamn Rafe.
I really shouldn’t have come here tonight. I didn’t even want to answer the phone when she called, but I couldn’t ignore it. A text message could have been ignored, but if she was calling, something might be wrong. I still haven’t found any evidence that anyone did try to drug her, but it’s been on my mind ever since. I’m probably worrying my life away over a dirty fucking glass.
Laurel comes back in with two paper bags stuffed full of food. She’s grinning like she has Christmas presents instead of nourishment.
“I love you for ordering this much food,” she informs me, putting the bags down on the coffee table and ripping into them.
“I know you like food,” I remark.
“I do. Lydia actually brought me some ziti or lasagna or something like that, some kind of leftovers as a thank you for watching Skylar. I was going to warm that up and eat by myself, but then Skylar became possessed and you know the rest of the story.”
Frowning, I watch her open up a white container of rice. “She brought you food?”
Flicking a glance my way, she nods. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t eat any of it, did you?”
“No, not yet. Good thing, now we can eat together.” She offers me a smile, but it drops when she sees me scowling. “What’s wrong?”
“When we’re done eating, I want you to throw out whatever she brought. Tell her you ate it, but don’t. Don’t eat anything she gives you, her or Gio. Don’t drink anything the southern waitress from the club brings you either, and don’t eat or drink anything Marlena has had access to.”
Laurel’s eyes widen. “What?”
I don’t want to alarm her needlessly, which is why I haven’t said anything before now, but if Lydia is bringing her food now, I have to say something. Until I am reasonably sure it was just a dirty glass at the club that night and not an attempt to hurt her, everyone at that table is a suspect. “Don’t worry about it, just do as I say. I’m being overly cautious, but just… do it and don’t ask questions.”
“I already ate something the slutty waitress had access to,” she tells me. “Rafe and I went to his restaurant to eat last night before your…” She halts, her voice a little tighter with dislike as she continues. “Your date. She was training with Virginia.” Now scowling at me, she demands, “Why are you going out with someone you don’t even trust to be around
my food? Is this Rafe’s doing? He’s fucking around with her and he wanted to throw me off his scent, didn’t he? You didn’t really want to go out with the waitress.”
“That’s wishful thinking,” I murmur.
“Is it?” she asks, sharply. “Don’t do the bro code bullshit and keep this from me, Sin. This is my life. I deserve to know who he is. And if he is into the waitress, maybe he would be cool with it if you and I got together. Then he’s free to have her without lying and sneaking around. We all win—I mean, except the waitress, two weeks from now when he gets bored with her, but then I’m pretty sure it’s on to the next for him. The point is, if he thinks the sun sets between her legs right now, let’s use that to get me out of this house and back to yours.”
“Let’s not do this, okay?” I ask, nodding at the food. “I want some of that teriyaki steak on a stick. Bring me a skewer.”
“I’ll bring you a skewer, all right,” she mutters.
I can’t help grinning. She’s such a fucking trip, with her little bullshit murderous tendencies. “You gonna stab me with it?”
“I should,” she informs me, as she grabs a skewer of meat and comes over to deliver it to me.
As Laurel contemplates murdering me, my mind wanders back to the fact that she ate at Rafe’s restaurant last night and Marlena had access to her food. If Virginia was there too, she probably would have noticed anything off, but with Laurel’s well-being at stake, I can’t be too cautious. “Did you feel okay after you left the restaurant? You weren’t sick or anything?”
Laurel shakes her head. “No, I felt fine. Why would she mess with my food? It’s Rafe’s fault, isn’t it? She doesn’t know I’ll give him up without a fight. She’s probably trying to get me out of the way so she can have him.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on. I’m the one who went out with her, not him. Why would she want Rafe when she can have me?” I half-joke.
Only that joke doesn’t land at all. Laurel looks like I just shot her dog. “Did you really order all this food just to make me lose my appetite?”
“It was a joke,” I offer.
“No, it wasn’t. Jokes are funny,” she informs me, sticking her nose in the air and rising, going back to the coffee table to get herself some food. Stealing a glance at me as she shoves a spoon into a bowl of rice, she asks, “Do you really like her? If you’re just covering Rafe’s ass, you can tell me. I honestly don’t care.”