Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,85

Thinks wealth is a scourge, and the wealthy are the soul-sucking vampires of society.

It’s not often you meet someone like him in Woodvale. There are more wealthy people than not here. Being one of the nots has shaped the way I look at the world. Sawyer isn’t from here, but he gets it. We clicked.

I convinced Harold Gilles, the garage owner, to put him through vocational school and take him on as an official apprentice mechanic. We’ve been friends since the day he walked through the big roller doors, and I’ve seen him nearly every day since. Had his back since day dot, just as he’s had mine.

But I’ve never seen him like this.

Sawyer leans his knuckles on the desk, staring at me with big, deep brown eyes. “You need to help me, man. I can’t deal with her.”

“Who’s Rae? Is she an ex?”

“Worse.” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. I wait, holding my breath. When Sawyer opens them again, they look haunted. “The worst of the worst. Spawn of the devil. The most awful person to have graced this earth since, shit, I don’t know. Fucking Hitler.”

I frown.

Sawyer lets out a groan, dropping his chin to his chest. Then, in a low voice, he mumbles, ”She’s my sister.”

I stare, surprised. When Sawyer came into town, he didn’t tell us much about his past, except for the fact that he’d been on the road for two and a half years, and he was ready to stop moving.

Over the past year, I’ve been able to tease some information out of him. I’m pretty sure his parents are well-off. Blood-sucking billionaires, I believe his exact words were. He might have had a few too many beers when he said it, but the sentiment rang true. I know he has two sisters—both younger. He left because something bad happened, but I haven’t been able to figure out what that was.

Not that I’m prying.

I know his dad owns an oil and gas company down in Texas. His mother could be on Real Housewives by the sounds of it. His sisters—I’m not sure. He didn’t elaborate.

He has his shit just like I have mine. I respect his privacy.

All I know is something happened, and he was thrown out of the family. Either that, or he left of his own will. Hit the road and started moving. After two and a half years, he came to Woodvale, liked the look of it, and decided to stop.

I’m not surprised. This little town in the Pacific Northwest is pleasant, lush, and beautiful. People are friendly. It’s nice. Comfortable. Safe.

Despite the wealth here—not because of it.

Right now, my best friend is staring at me like nothing is safe, or comfortable. Judging by the tension rippling through his body, I’m his last hope left in the world. Before I can answer, though, the screech of tires pierces my ears.

Sawyer’s eyes widen. “Please, Benji.”

An engine roars loud in the garage, then stops when the driver cuts it.

I nod. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just distract her. I’ll sneak out the back. Don’t tell her where I live.” Sawyer grabs my wrist, staring at me like his life depends on it. “Please, Benji. She’s a lying hypocrite. She’ll tell you whatever you want to hear just to suck you into her world. She’ll stab you in the back at the first chance. That’s what she did to me. I can’t be around her. I can’t.”

I nod. “I’ll take care of it. Go.”

Sawyer lets out a breath, relief flooding through his features. He slips through the door and in a second, he’s gone. A car door slams in the main garage. I get up and head toward the noise, bracing myself for a confrontation.

Just another Monday morning, right?

I square my jaw, steeling myself against the woman I’m about to meet. I already know her type—they’re littered all over Woodvale.

Rich, entitled, and not afraid to stab a long, manicured nail in her own brother’s eye to get what she wants. I’ve had to fix more than one dented fender in The Porsche That Daddy Bought, and fix it right now.

Yeah, I know what Rae’s like.

Hell—even the man who calls himself my father is one of the wealthy elite. He’s not worthy of the word father, though. Another damn entitled millionaire who thinks money can fix everything. Even a broken relationship with his son—just ask the bank teller who accepted the million-dollar deposit in my name.

Not that I’ll touch his dirty blood