Page 42 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Dirk

I still can’t figure out why the two douchebags attacked Lauren over her brother. We haven’t found Toro and every time I think I’m getting close, we lose the scent again.

After a follow up visit to Gage, I confirmed he didn’t know shit but left him a few parting gifts to remember me by.

Either way, she has to stop asking fucking questions before this gets worse than it already is.

This is why I brought her home because the odds are whatever happened to produce that much blood, it took place here.

She insists that she had no injuries on her body, which I can confirm, at least at the time I dropped her off because not only did I fuck her good on the damn countertop in the bathroom, but I was the last person to see her prior to going home.

So, what happened after, and did it happen in this very house?

To no one's surprise, especially my own, Lauren lives in a mansion on the hill in one of the nicest neighborhoods in town. However, it’s not the pretty spoiled princess who inspires me to figure this shit out.

Lauren may come from privilege, but it has its own chains and with each step we take into this mess, I smell the rot corroding her world from the inside.

Now, we’ve found evidence of something being covered up in her own fucking house.

Does she see what I do?

Maybe not because she hasn’t been able to break from the fog surrounding her but at some point, it’s going to hit home and there’s fuck all I can do about it.

All I know as I drop her at her dad’s house is that I can’t leave. Not yet but that means I have to break my word and after all this time and the shit I’ve pulled, I hate to do it.

Either way, if there’s anything I can do to change the momentum of where this is heading, I have to try.

Lauren doesn’t deserve this shit. Rich or not, spoiled or not, she didn’t ask for the shitty hand she was dealt.

I may not be a hero but I’m starting to feel like a fucking saint with all the shit I’m maneuvering to protect the one person I shouldn’t fucking care about at all.

Whatever.

Someday, she’s gonna look back at this as nothing more than a horrible time in her life. More than likely that will be from her cushy house and on the arm of some polo-shirt-wearing snob who can afford to pay for shit like the diamond earring I found in that damn rug.

Although the thought stings, it is what it is and while I’d like to think that I can do this on my own, I know the time has come to confess all to my friend.

Strangely, the notion doesn’t burn like it once did, and I suspect that’s because Colt has found his peace. Doesn’t his half-sister deserve hers too?

Lauren

The next few days pass in a blur. Dirk dropped me at my dad’s after our search of the house with promises to call but I haven’t heard from him.

Obviously, I want to know what he thinks we should do but I also just want someone to hug me and tell me this nightmare will be over soon.

I’ve started and deleted a text to him so many times that I can’t remember whether I sent it or not.

I hate to admit it but without all the festivities, my world lacks color and now I’m back to being achingly alone.

I heard through gossip that there was a vigil for Aimee last night. I caught pieces of it through social media before I closed that shit out.

I hate that Aimee is missing and seeing her parents all torn up about it hurts my soul.

What if I know something that could help them find peace?

The answer to that comes sooner than I would like the following day when the police show up with a search warrant at my mom’s house.

Every particle of my being is freaking the fuck out, but I manage to remain calm while she argues with them about her rights and why they aren’t looking for who hurt her son.

Frozen, I stare at the ground because I can’t look her in the eye. She’s always been an icy bitch but that’s not a crime.

Does my dad know what she did to Colt? Is that what he was referring to when he said she did some bad shit?

What about Buck? I can’t find a single person who actually cares that he’s gone. Not even his damn friends.

Does that mean he deserved to die?

Not only that but Mom didn’t even bat an eye when I came home with a dented car. She hasn’t said a damn thing about my bruised cheek or the way I move because my body fucking hurts.

If that isn’t a kick to the face, I don’t know what would be…

“Ma’am,” one of the officers says, jerking me from my daze. “There are cameras at the front door. We need access to the footage.”

I forgot about those stupid cameras that Mom had installed after someone supposedly broke into our home last year. I still think it was Buck, but Mom insisted, and they were put up.

After Mom provides the information, she approaches me standing by my car and says, “Lauren?”

When I look up, her lips twist into an ugly sneer and she says, “Your father should be here for this.”

Meeting her icy eyes, I slowly nod but the message is garbled because I don’t understand the light shining from her eyes.

“He did this,” she says before turning back to the front door. “Go. Go to your dad’s.”

“Why?” I ask and she slashes her hand through the air.

“Because you don’t live here anymore.”

I haven’t spoken to my mom since her proclamation and the police haven’t stormed my dad’s house to arrest me which is a relief but plays out in the back of my mind almost constantly.

I don’t know what Dirk did with that rug, but I didn’t see him carting it out of the house, so I assume it’s only a matter of time.

I know I was missing the diamond stud the morning after Buck’s attack but was it me who dropped it on the rug or someone else?

The questions roll through my brain on repeat but with no answers, I’m slowly losing my mind which is why, strangely, I welcome the distraction when Colt and Finn return from their honeymoon and Celia hosts a dinner to welcome them back.

Of course, the minute Colt walks through the door, he frowns. I suspect he wasn’t expecting me to be here.

Oh well. I guess I’m here to stay and we’re both going to have to get used to it.

His displeasure fades to confusion though when Finn asks me what happened, and I repeat the vague accident story.

Like mother like son, Colt eyes my bruised cheek with questions I don’t know how to answer but I’m taking it as a win that he’s not boring hateful holes into my skull like last time.

My mom’s disgusting insinuations still stand between us but I’m hoping that Colt and Finn’s vacation eased some of that anger and we can let the subject drop.

While Colt and Finn go over their trip, I try not to be an ass and attempt to focus but after spending hours at school where there’s nothing ergonomic about the seating arrangements, compounded by the chairs in the dining room which are freaking uncomfortable, my ribs ache like a bitch.

“Let’s eat dessert in the living room,” Celia says because she’s a freaking saint.

Does the woman notice everything? Could she be a bitch about something to make me feel better?

Gah.

Unfortunately, today is a particularly bad day and I hobble my way to the living room to which Colt eyes me suspiciously again.

Once I’m as comfortable as I’m going to get, I decline dessert and proceed to zone out. These over-the-counter pain meds aren’t doing shit but I’m the dumbass who refused to go to the hospital.

However, the morning after the incident, I woke with new bruises conveniently in the shape of that asshole’s fingers on my arm which can’t be explained away by a car accident.

Either way, I have no choice but to confess when my dad and Celia leave the room and Colt turns to me with his flinty gaze once more, and says, “What fucking happened?”

I’m tempted to lie but the ferocity of his gaze leads me to believe he won’t be giving up anytime soon and I’m tired…sue me.

“Okay,” I groan. “I wasn’t in an accident.”

“Huh?” Finn says.

Simultaneously, Colt mutters, “Who?”

A chill marches down my spine at his icy question but I shake my head. I am so not going down that road again.

I still don’t know what Dirk did and I regret not asking him, but I was distracted by the specter of my house and whatever the fuck happened there.

“What did happen?” Finn asks, eyeing Colt warily.

“Two fuckers with a warning,” I grumble, and Colt drops onto the ottoman before me.

“Who?”

I don’t know how to process what’s going on or the fact that Colt of all people is acting so rabid. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or something.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say and Colt’s eyes narrow.

“Who are you protecting?”

Good question. Am I withholding because I don’t want Dirk’s involvement to be exposed or something else?

Clearing my throat, I avert my gaze and say, “It was two guys. I didn’t know them.”

We both know that I’m not telling the whole truth, and I squirm when he cocks his head.

Finally, he asks, “What was the warning?”

“Stop asking about my brother,” I whisper.

“Buck? Why would you be asking about him?” Colt asks and for once he doesn’t sneer his name.

“It’s a long story…”

“We got time,” he says before crossing his arms and raising a brow.

Twenty minutes later, I’ve told him almost everything and although his mouth curves into a more menacing scowl the further I get into the story he doesn’t comment until I finish.

“What did you do with the bloody shirt?” he asks.

I feel bad about lying since he’s been a decent human being, but I don’t want Dirk to lose his friend over something I did which is why I didn’t mention him.

“I burned it.”

Nodding, he stands, and Finn follows. While I push myself to the edge of the chair, ready to lay down and take a damn nap, he says, “You don’t want to tell me who, that’s fine but I will find out.”

With that, he leaves, and I meet Finn’s wide eyes before waving pathetically.

Hopefully, he doesn’t get the answers he’s searching for, but I doubt he’ll give up until he does.

He may not like it but in that he shares the same single-minded intensity as our brother…Buck.