Zepp sat at a small breakfast table; his brows pulled together while he studied the screen of the laptop in front of him. His hand rested on the worn tabletop, tattooed fingers clenched in a fist. He always looked so angry. And dangerous.
I stood in the doorway and cleared my throat.
His response: Sliding his phone across the tabletop. “Order me some pizza.”
I wanted to strangle him, but instead, I mumbled “dick” under my breath before dialing the number to Pizza Barn and placing an order for two pepperoni pizzas. When the delivery guy asked for the address, I looked at Zepp. “You know the shit hole house at the end of Victory Lane? There.” Then I hung up and chucked Zepp’s phone back at him.
“Will that be all?” I asked, acid dripping from my voice.
He didn’t even look up from his laptop, let alone respond. He was such an asshole.
“Fine.” I headed for the hall. I hated being Zepp’s bitch, but trying to get out of it had backfired. So this was what I had to deal with—beer runs and pizza orders.
“I didn’t tell you, you could leave, Monroe.”
I stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the peeling wallpaper before I turned to face him. “Really, Zepp? Can we just not?”
The condescending glare he directed at me had my temper spiking. He was such an arrogant prick with his stupid nose ring and muscles. “Screw you and your small-dick power trip.”
A cackle came from the living room. “Told you mine was bigger,” Hendrix shouted, but Zepp’s gaze remained fixed on me like a hunter staring down the sites of a rifle.
He took a chair from the table and shoved it toward me. “We made a deal. Which means you should shut the fuck up and sit down.”
My jaw clenched when I took the seat, forcing myself to swallow my pride.
I hated his too-perfect face and the way he looked at me like a cat toying with a mouse. “Keep being a dick just because you can, but I can make these three months real hard for you, too.”
He pushed up from his seat, patting my head when he rounded the table. “That’s cute.”
My teeth ground over each other so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t crack. I closed my eyes and counted to ten in my head so I wouldn’t pick up this chair and toss it at his head. “God, you’re a prick,” I mumbled so he wouldn’t hear.
And that was that. We didn’t say a word to each other for the next half hour.
Bellamy and Wolf showed up, and once the guys had scarfed down their greasy pizza, we piled into Wolf’s rundown pickup and headed across town, eventually rolling through the winding roads of Barrington.
Wolf cut the lights before pulling to a stop outside one of the large brick houses. “Why are we here?” I asked, my gaze fixed through the cracked window.
Zepp climbed out, and the guys followed. On a resigned sigh, I opened the door, and the warm, night air wrapped around me. The second my feet hit the sidewalk, Zepp moved toward me, a burning cigarette hanging from his lips. The smirk on his face made me take an uneasy step back. I didn’t trust any of them for shit.
“Now, what I need you to do…” His gaze dropped to my chest before he grabbed onto my shirt, yanking the material until it ripped. “Damn, nice tits.”
Hendrix snickered behind him while Wolf and Bellamy lingered in the shadows.
I swatted his hand away, glancing down at my exposed bra. “What the hell, Zepp? I love this shirt.”
His gaze lifted from my torn shirt to my face. “Cry for me.” Smoke crawled through his lips with each word, that cold gaze cutting right through me.
“What?” A shiver of awareness trickled through me. They could do whatever they wanted to me right now, and no one would know. Swallowing my unease, I folded my arms over my chest. “Tell me what I’m doing here.”
The burning ember of his cigarette reflected in his near-pitch-black eyes. He thumbed behind him to the glossy, red door illuminated by a lone porch light. “You’re going to go bang on that door until that rich bitch opens up. Then you’re going to tell her some dickhead boyfriend of yours is after you while you keep her in the kitchen.”
“Why?”
He leaned in close, his thumb stroking over my cheek in a way that made my breath catch. “You’re the distraction. Now, cry.” The rasp of his voice burrowed beneath my skin in ways that I hated.
I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of smoke while the warmth of his breath fanned over my face. It wasn’t hard to make myself cry; I just had to allow a glimmer of life’s hard reality to creep through the walls I had constructed to keep it out. For a moment, I let myself drown in the hopelessness that I fought so hard.
When I opened my eyes again, tears broke free. Yet, even through the blur of life’s shitstorm that welled in my eyes, I zeroed in on Zepp’s ski mask-covered face. Despite being covered, I could still see the crinkle of a pleased smile in the corner of his eyes.
“Good girl,” he said before slinking into the shadows, the others following behind like loyal subjects. Dickhead.
Within seconds, they’d disappeared around the back of the house. And I took that as my cue. I ran up the drive, then pounded my fist fast against the door, over and over. The fact that I was the only one at risk here bubbled to the surface. It was my face that would be seen. The second that reality set in, I went to turn from the door, but the porch light came to life, and the door opened without the slightest of creaks. A willowy woman in a silk robe with a strand of pearls at the base of her throat stood at the entrance, a bewildered look on her face. “Can I—”
I was screwed now. Better make this believable. “Please. Help me,” I choked, glancing over my shoulder. “He’s after me.”
Her gaze stopped on my ripped shirt, then she grabbed onto my elbow and yanked me inside. “Come in, dear. Hurry.” The large door closed behind us with a thud, and she guided me along the shiny, hardwood floors. She led me into the living room, but I didn’t sit. He said to keep her in the kitchen.
“Please, could I have a glass of water?” I clutched my throat—"parched” from “running.”
“Of course.” She motioned for me to follow her.
We passed through the hallway, and I noticed the perfect family portrait centered on the wall. That was when I realized just how messed up Zepp was. In the ornate, golden frame, Leah stood between the woman leading me through the hall, and a guy I guessed was her dad, all of them smiling at the camera. This was Leah’s house. I shook my head while I followed Leah’s mom into a kitchen that was bigger than my entire trailer. It made me hate the woman in front of me while wishing I could be like her.
“Here.” She placed a glass onto the marble, kitchen island. I gulped half of it, thinking that even their water tasted better.
Her thin brows pulled into an expression of concern. “What happened, dear?”
“My ex-boyfriend. He— Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” My voice broke a little, and I forced tears to pour down my cheeks, before swiping at them. I had no idea what I was supposed to do here.
“Oh, my.” She gasped, her hand moving to her chest in horror, as though shit like that didn’t happen every day. “Did he...” she trailed off, unable to say the word rape.