fact that I trusted him more than anyone only added fuel to the fire. Maybe deep down, I’d always been attracted to him, and while growing up my need for his friendship had suppressed it. That was, until a little hair pulling had me go weak in the knees, making me hotter than I’d ever been.
“Do we need to talk about it?” Jamie asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“No,” I curtly replied. That was the last thing I wanted right now. “Can we pretend it didn’t happen?”
He clenched his jaw, deepening his frown, which I found strange. I'd assumed he’d be relieved I was giving him an out.
His eyes locked with mine, as if searching for answers in the depths of my soul. Once he seemed to find what he was looking for, he gave me the slightest nod. Even though it was what I'd asked of him, his acceptance stung. I wasn’t fast enough to hide the hurt in my eyes. So before he could say anything, I grabbed my cover-up and bolted. I felt like a coward for running away, but I couldn’t be around him, not without making things worse.
Face downturned, I made my way through the kitchen into the foyer. I was so lost in my head, I collided with a wall of muscle. Hard. The impact sent me flying backward to the floor. “Ow,” I hissed, landing on my ass.
“Watch where you’re going,” a venomous voice snarled. I peered up as I rubbed at my sore tailbone. A grisly goon glared down at me. What the hell is his problem? Running into him had been an accident, which I'd had every intention of apologizing for.
“Maybe you should have gotten out of the fucking way.” It wasn’t my finest moment. I was having a lot of those lately.
The goon’s face hardened with anger as his eyes filled with murderous intent. He locked a hand bruisingly around my upper arm and yanked me to my feet. The pain caused me to yelp.
“Learn your place, you stupid cunt.” His hand came out of nowhere. My head was forced backward by the roaring pain that slammed into the side of my face. My vision exploded and the taste of pennies filled my mouth. Flashbacks of that night seven years ago filled my head. All it took was one hit and pow! I was seventeen again. Zack had hit me in a similar way right before Tyson pinned my arms above my head. Then Zack ripped my legs apart…
Damnit! They’re dead. Focus!
I blinked away the vision and slowly turned back to face my reality. The goon still held my left arm in his calloused, tight grip.
I made a show of forming a fist with my right hand and swung to punch him, knowing he’d block it. When he caught my wrist, I slammed my head forward, colliding my forehead with his nose. With that satisfying crunch, he shouted out in pain, blood gushing from his nostrils. I silenced him with a swift knee kick to the groin. He choked on a gulp of air, releasing my right wrist, but still held onto me tightly by my left arm. I tried yanking free to no avail. I was trapped. He refused to unclamp his strong coarse fingers and it put my head right back in that bathroom, pinned to that fucking floor. Tyson was squeezing my wrists while Zach’s bruising fingers pressed into the tender area of my inner thighs, holding them open. Fuuuuuck!
I again crawled out of the trenches that were my memories and tried to figure a way out of his hold. My eyes bounced around quickly, until they landed on the gun holstered at his belt. I moved before my brain even thought to. I yanked his side arm from the holster, aimed the pistol at his head, and pulled the trigger. It happened so fast. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I just acted.
I watched the light leave his eyes as his body crumpled to the floor. The rush of it was intoxicating. Seductive. As quick as those feelings lit up, they were chased away by the ice water of guilt washing over me. I couldn’t handle it. I shut down.
The shot had echoed throughout the house, followed by yelling. Numbly, I backed up from the body on the floor, taking step after step until I hit something solid. It didn’t feel like a wall. Startled, I lifted my gun. A hand clasped around my wrist, stopping