He has to be if he still has this damn contract.
It paints everything we did downstairs in a harsh light. I thought I saw awe in Devlin’s eyes, but now?
What did I actually prove to him? To myself?
Devlin never denied the rumor. He just wanted to claim me. How the hell can he go around calling me his girlfriend to his parents while he has the contract hidden in his closet?
He only cares about me? What a joke.
A lie.
One I fucking fell for.
With a frustrated grunt, I grab it by both ends, intent on shredding it. I stop before I rip it.
As much as it hurts to find this, I can’t do anything yet. I need more answers first, and Mom is still in the hospital.
My heart feels fragile, as bruised as my body.
In a numb daze, I stick the contract in the stack of shirts in Devlin’s closet. I’m not ready to face what I’ve discovered until I’m better prepared for the fallout.
Thirty-Six
Devlin
My grip on the wheel is tight as I whip the Mustang around the bend. Bishop whistles, tapping out a beat on the frame of the open window, night air gusting through his hair.
A muffled groan sounds from the backseat, where we stashed Sean after I knocked him out. He thought we were going for a cruise to pick up chicks. Nope.
I chose the Mustang because it’s Dad’s, so I don’t give a shit if the blood trickling from the corner of Sean’s mouth smears on the leather.
Bishop didn’t ask questions when I called him up for help with this errand. He had a bat in hand and a cutthroat gleam in his eyes when I picked him up.
I want to get this done quick so I can get back to Blair, waiting at home in our bed. It killed me to leave her alone after the incredible fuck, but I couldn’t let this fly. A growl rumbles in my chest, the anger a constant simmer.
Sean and those other puppets fucking thought they could get away with spreading shit about my girl? I’ll end each one of them. He’ll pay the price and meet the brunt of my wrath.
“Up here on the left.” Bishop nods as the abandoned quarry site comes into view. “Perfect spot.”
A hiking trail picks up at the back of the weed-choked gravel lot, the rest of the site cleared and filled in. All that remains is a rusted store building. It’s the perfect spot to teach Sean a lesson.
I pull into the old lot and park the Mustang. Bishop grabs his bat, and we climb out to haul Sean from the backseat.
“God, you’re heavy,” Bishop grumbles, readjusting the distribution of Sean’s weight to flick his lolling head.
Sean mumbles something unintelligible.
We drag him to the back of the storage building and prop him against the rusted metal wall. When Sean doesn’t stir right away, I kick his foot. Hard.
“Wake up.”
Sean jolts at the sound of my command. He spots Bishop first, then me. The relaxed look fades when he realizes my expression is deadly. His hand flies to his head.
That’s right, shit for brains. I’m the one that cold-cocked you.
“Mornin’, sunshine!” Bishop bends to get on Sean’s level, hands dangling over the bat slung across his shoulders. “Heard you like to feed that beautiful beast, the Silver Lake rumor mill. Should we feed it some more?” Bishop’s grin turns manic. “I’ve been holding on to the story of the time you pissed yourself freshman year for a long ass time.”
Sean flinches back, hands up. “W-what’s up guys? What is this?”