Page 8 of Tormented By Regret
“No. I think you’ve got that down all on your lonesome.” She tried to scoot past me, but I grabbed her by the waist, dragging her back up against the rail.
“Okay, I give in. What can I do to have you come with me?”
“Take your hands off me.”
I was taken by surprise since most women wanted my hands on them. “What?”
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners? You don’t touch a woman unless she wants you to.”
“First off, my mother died a long time ago. Secondly, no woman has ever said no to me.”
“Well look at that, I’m glad I’m the first.” She shoved at my chest, and I allowed her to walk past me toward the front door.
“I just need to take you home,” I stated quickly, before I lost her.
“I suggest you leave where you came from. I don’t have time for Bastards today.”
The way she said the word was totally disrespectful and it pissed me off. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you respect.”
She whirled at me. “Careful, biker. I wouldn’t mention my mother if I were you.”
She had her brother’s eyes and her father’s menacing tone. I liked it. I fucking liked her, the pretty lunatic.
“I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
She looked away for a moment, but I caught a glimpse of the deep sadness that encompassed her pretty eyes. “Your brother is worried, I’m sure your dad is too.”
“You’ve seen my dad?” Her eyes looked expectantly.
I rubbed my head and shrugged. “To be honest, no one’s really seen your dad in a long time, Whisper. But your brother is waiting for you to come home.”
“I could give a shit about Ethan. I’ve been living on my own for years, you think he gave a shit about me back then. No. He only gives a shit about himself.”
She turned to walk through the door, and I reached out, quickly grabbing her by the wrist, which I quickly realized was a wrong move. She yanked her arm away, and I raised my hands as she quickly swung the gun up aiming it at me.
“I told you not to touch me.”
“I’m sorry. You can get mad at me, but I can’t let you go.”
“All you damn Bastards are the same. You’re all trying to control what you can’t have. I told you to leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” I stated and suddenly the gun went off, shooting right through the damn porch steps. I jumped back and looked up at her in shock. “You are a fucking lunatic!”
She aimed the gun on me once again. “Next one is going in your thigh,” she threatened.
“I’ll give you to the count of ten, and then I’m pulling the trigger.”
I just stood there smugly, not thinking she’d actually do it. But that feeling went away quick, when she started to count.
“One.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She shot the ground beside me and took a step closer. “Two.”
“Goddamn, woman!”
“Three!” She cocked the gun and fired a little closer this time. I had to admit she was a good shot, the bullet ricocheting off the old truck that was standing only a few feet away from me.