Page 27 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Dirk

What in the actual fuck is going on?

None of this makes sense.

The last time I saw Lauren, she was clearly out of it, but she wasn’t hurt and she sure as shit wasn’t covered in blood.

There’s no way she somehow subdued Buck’s girlfriend and then hid her fucking body and that’s the only thing that makes sense based on the detective’s line of questioning.

Aimee must be dead but how did it happen and when?

Either way, I can’t leave this hanging over her head and although I’d rather not involve anyone else in this fiasco, Hayden knows some of these pricks from back in the day.

He might be able to shed some light on this murky as fuck subject.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Buck was buying drugs to subdue his victims because the slimy fucker didn’t understand boundaries and he sure as shit didn’t care about the word no.

If he were still here, I’d seek him out just to beat his ass but instead, I’ll finally be paying a visit to that fucker Gage.

He’s been on my list since Lauren admitted she didn’t remember anything from that night, now he’s got some explaining to do.

In the meantime, I need to dispose of the shirt Lauren was stupidly carrying around in her purse before doing some recon. I may be eager to track down the asshole but I’m not stupid, the more I know about what I’m walking into, the better.

Thankfully, Hayden is home, and I spy him standing on the porch when I pull into the drive. As soon as I exit, he raises a brow and I mutter, “Time for a little bonfire.”

Hayden doesn’t comment but his lips pull into a filthy grin as he leads me around to the backyard.

“Where’s Ramie?” I ask.

“With Finn,” he grunts, and I drop the shirt into the bin Hayden points to.

With all the shit going down, I forgot today is Colt’s big day. I need to be back in time for the ceremony which blackens my mood because I’m itching to do some damage.

“Do I want to know?” he asks.

“Probably not,” I say, and he merely nods before passing me the lighter fluid.

After I spray the scrap of fabric, we watch it flame, before I say, “You know anything about some drug dealing fucker named Gage?”

Hayden rocks back on his heels before saying, “Into sick shit, that one.”

My heart sinks at his words and I pray that my suspicions about what happened to Lauren aren’t correct while Hayden fills me in on the soon to be dead fucker.

When he’s done, he says, “Want me to go with you?”

“Naw, bro,” I say, clapping him on the back. “I’m already going down, no reason to take you with me.”

I’ve met Gage once before which happens to be the night that Buck was attacked, and I found Lauren dancing around in his white as fuck living room before slithering across his white as fuck leather couch.

To say that I saw black would be an understatement not only because she was there but Gage, the sleazy fucker, was leading her back into his lair, no doubt to take advantage of someone who not only didn’t have the capacity to say no but probably didn’t even understand the word at the time.

I hate to think that maybe I sent Lauren into this mess with the way I treated her, but I know that it’s partially true.

We may be at odds, and we may say things that we don’t mean, but the truth of the matter is that I see her desperate attempts to escape the truth barreling down on her at top speed.

The problem is, she can’t outrun what’s coming and the sooner she takes the blow, the sooner she can move the fuck on.

Sure, it’s a shitty fucking reality but it will fade. She’ll let go of the rose-colored glasses and emerge stronger for her efforts.

She’ll be a fucking queen when she does, but I won’t be here to see it because we are not soulmates. We are not buddies. We’re not even the same people.

Case in point, Lauren waved that bloody fucking shirt in the air, which she had been carrying around god knows how long like a damn flag, while I burned that shit into nothing but dust because I’m no stranger to covering what I don’t want to be found.

Every family has secrets but when rich people are exposed, they buy their penance. The rest of us assholes burn for it.

While I’m glad this exists for Lauren because with the way things are heading, she’s going to need it, it’s not me who will be riding in with the magical bag of coins to rescue her.

Eventually, she’ll see the bigger picture.

In the meantime, I will do what I’m good at. I’ll search for the assholes who drugged her in the darkness and if they’re lucky, eventually they’ll get to see the light again.

This is my vow as I stalk up to Gage’s house, curling my lip while I stare at the red fucking wood door with a Christmas wreath covered in bright shining ornaments adorning it.

This is why we hate the fucking richies. They’re always crossing over to our side and pretending to be something they’re not.

Meanwhile, they turn up their noses at our people, while stepping on our broken backs to continue the fucking charade.

Gage doesn’t know struggle, unless it’s figuring out which video game to play after stealing Mommy’s credit card and buying a new fucking television.

Confirming my thoughts on the subject, Gage is wearing a button-down shirt and fucking chinos when he opens the door, his mouth folding into a frown.

The sounds of laughter echo behind him and I cock my head. It would appear that his parents are home from wherever they went while he had his last party.

“Bro,” a tiny voice squeaks behind him and Gage steps onto the porch before closing the door in who I presume to be his little brother’s face.

He’s lucky he’s not alone because I’d kick his ass right now, but I have to be smart about these things. It’s all about the game. I don’t have any plans to go to jail right this second and if I’m lucky, I never will.

However, until I know what happened to Lauren that night and whether this douche was involved I ain’t going anywhere.

“What do you want?” Gage asks, and I cross my arms.

“Did you fuck with my girl, Gage?” I ask and his eyes widen before they narrow.

When he pulls up a slick smile, I step into his space, ensuring that my breath puffs against his cheek as he says, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t fuck with me, man. You think you’re immune? You’re not. I will kick your fucking ass and you’ll be lucky to be breathing through a straw when I’m done.”

“I didn’t drug anybody,” he says, “but Buck sure did seem interested in the goodies if you know what I mean.”

Did Buck buy the roofies? How long has he been doing it?

I’m not surprised by the confirmation, but I am revolted because I can’t imagine any scenario in which trying to get a woman into your pants includes drugging them and that’s saying a lot considering my own past.

He’s always been a pathetic ass weasel though, so there’s that.

“So, you sold Buck the drugs?” I ask and when Gage shrugs, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not asking again.”

Asshole.

When he nods, I grab his shirt and shove him against the door. The stupid ass wreath crunches under the weight of his body as I ask, “Did you drug her ?”

“I said no,” he squeals.

“This is your last fucking warning, you little piece of shit. If you sell any more fucking drugs like that to another human being, I will hunt you down. I will cut you into little pieces but not before cutting off your fucking dick. And then I’m gonna bury you all across the United fucking States so your family will never find you. ”

I’ll give him props, he’s a tough nut to crack when he merely stares at me, until I raise a brow and say, “Feel me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, and I step away, waiting until his hand is on the door.

“Gage?”

Although he stiffens, he doesn’t turn back and I glance out over the neighborhood of swanky cars and million-dollar mansions before saying, “If I find out, you did one single thing to hurt that girl, you’re dead.”