“Who is Matthew?” I echo my brother.
“The guy… the guy I k-killed.” She barely gets out the last word. It’s almost like it physically hurts her to say it out loud. Another nip at my conscience I have to ignore because we have a pressing matter to discuss.
“What did Matthew do to you?” When we got to Payton, she said I didn’t mean to hit him. I assumed it was an accident, but now, the more I think about it, the more that doesn’t make sense. There was no other car in the parking lot.
“What happened?” Kane presses, equally as agitated as me.
“He… he waived the fee for me to dance at the studio. I should have known better, but he seemed so nice at first…” she trails off, her arms tightening around herself. Her eyes are trained on the floor, almost like she is ashamed of something.
“Tell us what happened,” I demand. I can’t explain the protectiveness I feel for her, but just the thought of someone hurting her makes me want to bring this Matthew guy back to life just so I can kill him again.
“He told me he was going to take payment in other ways.”
I clench my fists at her words. She doesn’t need to explain the other ways of payments to me.
“Did he touch you?” I do my best to keep my voice even and low, but it still comes out strained.
“He tried, but I got away both times.”
“First off, don’t ever compare us to that fucker again. Second, we don’t expect you to pay us back at all. Third, we need you to get naked, so we can get you clean and relaxed. Fourth, we’re not leaving you alone because you have a huge bump on your forehead which means you might have a concussion,” I half lie. She does have a huge bump on her head, but her pupils look fine. I don’t think she actually has a concussion.
She spins until she faces the mirror, her hands come up to the bump on her forehead, her tiny fingers prod at the bump, and she winces. It’s like she thought I was lying until she saw and felt it for herself.
“Do you believe me now?”
There’s still distrust in her eyes when they meet mine in the mirror, but it’s less than before. Like the shock has worn off enough for her to see the truth of what we’ve been trying to tell her. “I shouldn’t have compared you to him.” Her voice is softer now, too. Heavy with guilt.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” I know the brief smile I try to give her comes off more like a grimace, but it’s the best I can do. That piece of shit, no wonder she doesn’t trust us.
Then again, most people don’t.
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze flits back and forth between my brother and me. “I owe you my thanks, not my mistrust.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far.” There’s a tightness to Kane’s voice, and I know where it’s coming from. I can hardly control myself, either. Twins have a mental connection, or so they say. I might not be able to read my brother’s mind, and he might not be able to read mine, but there’ve been times when we’ve both been able to pick up on each other’s feelings. Just brief impressions, nothing solid. When he’s really pissed, I feel it. When I’m enraged and close to the breaking point, he knows to step in and cool me off before things go to shit.
We’re both on the edge right now. I know it pisses him off just as much as it does me, imagining this angelic thing getting harassed and threatened. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say he wishes just as much as I do that we could get our hands on that piece of shit and make him pay dearly.
Payton’s hands linger at the hem of her thin sweater. It’s old, I notice for the first time, a little worn. She can’t make much money, and I already know she lives in a shithole. This is more evidence that the girl needs help—and not just the kind we gave her tonight.
“Go on.” There’s no mistaking my brother’s tone. Nobody goes against him when he sounds like that.
She eyes the tub, the water coming from the faucet. Small, even teeth dig into her bottom lip, and her brows knit together, but she doesn’t say a word. Fighting with herself. Finally, once the tub’s half full, she tugs at her sweater and lifts it over her head.
My eyes widen without meaning to. Her tits are surprisingly large for a girl her size—the baggy sweater hid them, like the jacket she wore over her leotard when we first met. My mouth goes dry, and blood surges to my cock.
“Can you please not watch me do this?”
Kane shakes his head before turning off the water before the tub overfills. Steam billows up, filling the room. “We’re going to see you, either way. In the tub or out of it.”
She lowers her head before pushing down her jeans, kicking off a pair of worn flats before letting the denim pool around her ankles. She’s in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and a white bra. Innocence personified.
Innocence with a sinful body.
She strips off the last layer all at once and practically jumps into the tub, but not fast enough to hide her body from me—a peach of an ass, nipples that are pink and tempting. She lowers herself into the water with a soft sigh while I fight the urge to get in with her.
“That wasn’t so tough.” I take a washcloth from the shelf and lower myself to one knee beside the tub.
“Wh-what—?” She’s ready to bolt again, but that would mean getting up and revealing herself. She’s trapped, and she knows it.