Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79314 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Being spied on by a massive network was the last thing Shane needed, so Ros had switched off the automatic saving option for him. Or had he just pretended to? “Yeah, and it’s off now. I’m the only one who’s gonna see it.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t really feel so comfortable with it. I would keep stressing over my dad finding it one day.”
So Shane had helped him dispose of a body, and Ros still didn’t trust him.
Maybe he just had good instincts. Or maybe he anticipated a man like Shane going after his money in the future and didn’t want to create any blackmail material?
“Are you worried what I might do with it?”
Ros shook his head. “Why do you have to twist my words? We never talked about this before, and I’m leaving soon anyway. Maybe another time.”
“You just didn’t make any room in your plans for me,” Shane snapped back.
Ros slipped away from him, cutting short hopes for at least some physical satisfaction. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to plan for Thanksgiving together, did you?”
Shane spread his arms and shot to his feet. “I thought you’d be happy to see me! I thought you’d rather be with me than with the dad you always complain about!”
Ros grabbed his jeans off the radiator even though they still seemed damp on the thigh. “Do you have any idea how expensive this college is? I’d never be able to afford it on my own, even if I still sold drugs. Which I don’t, cause I’m freaked the fuck out!”
“Oh yeah, there’s that. You were perfectly fine with letting me get rid of the corpse but you won’t give me a little memento for the holidays! Why? People do it all the freaking time!”
Ros pulled his jeans on and squared his shoulders. “You wanna tell me you’re still in the mood after this? Go on then, unzip.”
Shane stalled, squeezing his phone like a weapon. Something dangerous flashed in Ros’s eyes, and he feared he might find himself with bite marks where he was most vulnerable. “Uh—”
“What? Now you don’t want to get head?” Ros asked with a sneer and stepped closer.
Shane’s body hair bristled, and it took all of his willpower not to step away. “You’re being fucking weird.”
Out of nowhere, Ros shoved at Shane’s chest. “No, you’re being fucking weird. What is up with you today? Why would you keep pushing like that?”
Shane didn’t think. He grabbed Ros’s arm, spun him around, and flattened him against the wall with the arm twisted at the back. Blots of color swirled in front of him like phantom fireflies, but the sense of danger remained present in his body as his blood bubbled with adrenaline.
A shove was disrespect.
Disrespect could get you shanked or fucked.
Ros gasped, but then seemed to stop breathing altogether despite the furious pulsing in his wrist. “Um… I’m sorry,” he choked out after a long pause, frozen against the wall.
Shane’s brain was on fire. There was a part of him that wanted to shove down Ros’s pants and show him that he wasn’t the one in charge. But Ros didn’t fight him and stilled like a doe caught in the headlights.
Shane’s mouth dried as he breathed in the scent of fear already beading on Ros’s skin, but when the slim body stiffened further, Shane let him go and took a big step back, unexpectedly shaken.
Why the hell did he feel so disgusting?
Ros turned against the wall, but his gaze remained lowered. Shane watched his mouth quiver, as if he were gathering the courage to say something, but then a beeping cut through the silence, and Ros pulled his phone out.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. My dad’s had the fantastic idea of coming over to pick me up. He’s downstairs. Just wait here, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Shane stood still. He balled his hands into fists when they trembled and remained in place as Ros dashed past him, making sure their skin wouldn’t accidentally touch. It was only when the door slammed that Shane awoke from his stupor.
Ed Beck hadn’t come, had he? Ros just used it as an excuse to run, and he’d be back with some of his frat brothers, or security, and have him thrown out.
What the fuck was wrong with Shane today?
Sometimes he forgot he couldn’t treat civilians the way he’d dealt with fellow degenerates behind bars. One glance around the room was enough to remind Shane that Ros was built from different stock.
Over his bed, Ros had a poster of a painting with a pretty red-haired lady leaning down from horseback to kiss a knight in armor, and his small desk nearby was cluttered with sketches and colorful crayons. Right above it, the fairy prince mask he’d worn for Halloween proudly hung from a hook. There were no boxing gloves, no photos of fast cars, and no knife hidden under his pillow.