Page 5 of Without a Hitch
“First time to the Block?” His voice cracks, and I grind my teeth.
“No.” It’s the best I can do. Asshole is my default now, but even I can’t be a prick to the smiling, pimple-faced kid.
“Oh, you friends with Mr. Kingston? He’s growly like you, but he’s nicer. He pretends to be a jerk, but mostly just to tourists.”
I tighten my lips to hold back a grin.
When the kid’s brain catches up to his mouth, his eyes go wide with fear.
I give him a semblance of a smile in the mirror. “Mr. Kingston pretends. I’m the real deal.” Even my voice sounds like a villain. Part of me hates that this is who they’ve turned me into, and the other part is grateful. I’ll never again be put in a position where love blinds me to the realities of life.
The car jostles as he turns onto a grass driveway. It’s difficult to see through the sleet coming down like a thick blanket, but the faint glow from the small home up ahead tells me Blake isn’t living like royalty out here.
My driver pulls as close to the house as he can get, and I hand him a hundred-dollar bill.
“Holy crap! I don’t have change for this, mister.”
“Keep it,” I grumble. I’m out of the car and up the steps a second later, pounding on Blake’s front door. Reluctantly, I turn to watch the kid as I wait. He’s attempting to turn the car around in the small drive, and a four-point turn quickly becomes a twelve-point turn. It reminds me of the time I taught Nova to drive, and a genuine smile surprises me.
I return to Blake’s front door with a shrug and knock harder this time. Then I do it again. The prick thinks he can ignore me. Hell, he probably does ignore most unannounced visitors, but not me.
The door is ripped open with so much force I feel the breeze it creates across my palm. “What?” Blake hisses with all the dominance of a mountain lion, which is fitting considering his current appearance.
“If you want people to leave you alone, you’ll need to work on your delivery. It’s not scary at all.” I clap him on the shoulder and muscle my way past.
“Blaine? What the fuck?”
I unbutton my coat as I walk farther into his space. When I notice the yoga mat in the middle of the family room and a workout video my sister would probably enjoy on the large screen above the fireplace, I freeze mid-step.
“Are you…are you doing bloody yoga?”
Blake bumps my shoulder and points a remote at the screen on his way by. “It’s supposed to be good for meditating or some shit.”
My eyebrows must be near my hairline, and I feel my face transform. I can’t decide if I should give him shit about this or not. He makes the decision for me with his next breath.
“I’m trying to learn how to let go of the hate. It’s insidious and it’s rotting me from the inside out.”
Pure shock swamps me as I shrug out of my coat. “You’re going to forgive your father?” His father is single-handedly responsible for the car accident that took Blake’s family.
My friend’s expression goes cold. His face is a murderous mask. “Never.” His voice is lethal. “I hope hell shows him no mercy, but I need to learn to forgive myself. Shannon wouldn’t like me much these days.”
Fuck. How will he take the information I’m about to drop in his lap?
He crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares at me like he knows I have something to say. We grew up together. Went to the same summer camps and ran in the same circles, but you’d never know it looking at us now. Blake has a full beard that’s in desperate need of a trim, and if he put on a flannel shirt, he could pass for a full-blown lumberjack. I’m still dressed in my standard three-piece suit.
“What are you doing here, Loch?”
“I need your help.”
He lifts a brow but says nothing. After an eternity of scowling at each other, he sweeps his arms toward the small table between the kitchen and family room. “Take a seat.”
Relief washes through me, even if I don’t show it. I’m confident enough in my plan, but it would be harder to proceed without Blake’s help. My body drops heavily into the wooden chair. I feel much older than my thirty-two years.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
He moves about the kitchen as I lay out my plan but doesn’t say a word until I’m done. Slipping a cup of coffee my way, he takes the chair opposite me.
“You’re motivated by revenge.”
