Page 38 of Remorseless

“Mommie’s mad at me. So is Lolly. I won’t have anyone to watch me rehearse.”

“I’ll come,” Mattie volunteered. “I love plays. It’ll give me a different insight to watch your rehearsals.”

“We-we can watch, too,” Freda said. Her hesitation clear, she glanced from Rebel to Mattie and, finally, to Harley. “If…if you don’t…I-I mean—”

“I would love for you to come,” Harley said.

Mattie threw Rebel another look.

“Fuck, I’ll come, too. Just shut the fuck up and stop with the fucking crying. You’re giving me a headache.”

“I want to be in class with you and Mattie, Reb,” Harley said, sniffling.

She looked so remorseful but Rebel didn’t believe Harley knew the fucking definition.

She wasn’t the only one who felt that way either.No oneresponded.

“Kaia said you’re going out with him next week,” his younger brother, Kayce, announced like a big-mouthed dickhead.

CJ’s eyes widened. “You are?”

“How come you didn’t tell us, Reb?” Axel demanded.

“So you could tease me? No fucking thank you.”

The glances her brothers exchanged raised Rebel’s suspicions. Before she questioned them, the bell rang.

Lunch was over.

Sitting in his office at the law firm, Diesel went over each and every moment of his early morning encounter with Rebel. After she’d stormed away, he hadn’t snorted coke or drunk himself into oblivion where memories faded with the rising of the sun.

He’d made it to his room and closed his eyes, the image of Torie’s faceless corpse replaced with those of Rebel asleep in her bed. Standing in the forest, arms folded around her waist, waiting for him. The noises Torie made as she died were replaced with the sweet sound of Rebel’s voice. Her laughter. Her challenges.

The look on Rebel’s face when she’d accused him of sleeping with Torie.

Diesel panicked and lied. He’d needed Rebel to cleanse his mind of Uncle Christopher’s brutality.

This weekend had been good. Things felt normal, better than it had in a long time. Later this afternoon, Uncle Christopher was coming over for a meeting. Not knowing the reason left Diesel a little nervous.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he leaned back in his executive’s chair. His office wasn’t as big as Brooks’s or Kendall’s, but it was quite luxurious. Between Aunt Meggie, Charlotte Redding, and Kendall, the office décor boasted a Charleston executive desk, matching file cabinets, bookcase, and credenza, a hand-knotted Persian rug, and signed paintings by Contemporary artists. He’d fucked Tabitha on many occasions on the camel-colored tufted sofa. Most recently, he’d licked Jana’s pussy there.

Jana.

She hadn’t been gone long, only a week. Usually, by now, he missed her. Or felt regret that he couldn’t help her more. Or feltsomething. Now, Rebel crowded his mind, coupled with shame, desire, and regret.

How the fuck had he gone so fucking far off the rails with her?

Not long after he married Tabitha, he realized his irrationality—fueled by alcohol and drugs—led him to a fucking stupid decision. The answer to not trusting a fucking bitch? Marry her.

Concerned that Uncle Christopher would gut him for listening to that fucking bitch? Break into his underaged daughter’s room, watch her while she slept, then invite her to a clandestine meeting.

Excellent fuckingreasoning.

He owed Rebel so many apologies. If she hadn’t declined, he would’ve ended up in her bed. Whether he could’ve fucked her, the jury hadn’t reached a verdict. He’d been drunk off his ass. Par for the course when he made fucked up decisions.

Still, he would’ve been marked for death. Prison wouldn’t have protected him. The Dwellers put out hits on inmates.

Diesel leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Until he obliterated her nude body from his mind, he had to stay away from Rebel. She was his youngersister.