Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
It catches me off guard and makes my head and gut swim with a sort of morbid curiosity. Does Kat like Eddie? Does Eddie want Kat?
Jealousy burns within me. I want to ram his head against the glass liquor cabinet and watch as the blood floods the floor. The idea of Eddie destroying Kat’s body with lust has me seeing red. The rage consuming me is foreign, and I don’t like it. I’m not like Henry. I’m not really a Shaw. Violence and destruction isn’t how I was raised, but here I am, ready to kill for Katelyn Shaw.
I gulp my Brandy to compensate and quickly pour another. I’d never in a million years let another man touch my woman.
“Pace yourself, Heath,” Kat says, slamming me on the back like she would a brother. I don’t like the feeling of her treating me like a regular family member.
Eddie has grown and filled out, looks like he’s probably lifting weights. I watch him watch Kat, see him peel off her white baby doll dress with his eyes. Kat drinks brandy liberally, and her laugh gets louder. Henry stares at us from across the room with hate in his eyes. When he gets that look, I always think about tossing the key to the lock of Shaw’s gun cabinets into the waters of Long Island Sound for everyone’s safety and the betterment of humanity. Henry is to be trusted as much as a pin-poked prophylactic on a drunk college kid. In other words, not at all.
Maybe he’s gotten some ideas from the favor I called in. I didn’t care before if Eddie suspected anything, but now he seems unduly interested and intrigued by my darling little sister. He stares at her intently with his jade-colored eyes and cocks his head like a skater-boy every time his wavy brown locks fall in his face.
“I’m gonna go get changed and head down to the dunes for a dip,” I tell them. I set my brandy snifter down on the Dalbergia table. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to get locked up for murdering Eddie Lind.
As I excuse myself, Brandon Jennings, a close friend of Henry’s, is handing out shots of something bright red. Knowing these guys, it’s probably the blood of sacrificed virgins.
I make my way up the long staircase hoping to hear Kat’s footsteps behind me, but all I hear is muffled laughter and whoops and hollers from the smoking den—a space that’s been dormant since Shaw passed away. Not sure if he’d appreciate rings left by wet glasses on lowboys he imported from Madagascar. His portrait still hangs at the first landing of the grand staircase, a location of honor at Wainscott Hollow. I’m half surprised Henry didn’t replace it with a shot of Kylie Jenner in a two-piece or a poster from NASCAR.
I look up at the stern-looking man and wonder if he can see us and if he’s rolling in his grave at how fucked we’ve all become. Or rather, rolling in his urn on Henry’s dresser since his only real son refused to bury him like he wanted.
In my room, I strip down to nothing and step into the shower to wash away the weirdness of the day. Hopefully, I’ll bathe in Kat’s essence and wake up in her arms. Henry will be passed out with a hangover until early evening, so that means Kat and I can live and love freely to our heart’s desires.
After a steamy shower, I step out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist. My bare feet sink into the Persian rug, and I allow myself to tumble on the bed where said towel falls open just as my door opens and Kat and Eddie walk in.
I might be sporting a semi with my hand gripping my shaft and the other bent and propping up my head.
“Oh, shit. My bad,” Eddie stumbles. He turns to scurry out of the room.
Kat is drunk and doesn’t care that I’m nude. She walks into the room like nothing is out of the ordinary.
“Fuck, Eddie, sorry. I’m covered.” I jump up and re-wrap my towel as Eddie turns.
“I didn’t light the candles because I figured they’d go out. But I brought you this,” he says and hands me an extra-long stove lighter.
“Perfect.” I smile at Eddie, showing my teeth.
Kat’s right, Eddie’s not so bad. Maybe not all of Henry’s friends are rich losers providing fodder for the #metoo movement. I’d still crack his head open if he ever touched Kat, but for now, I’m okay with being his friend. You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The way he’s staring at Kat like a starved man admiring a piece of Kobe beef lets me know that Eddie, though nice, is a threat for her affection. I may not know everything but I know that come hell or high-water Katelyn Shaw is mine for all eternity.