Page 109 of Malice
A wicked grin pulled at my mouth. “I’m coming for you,” I growled low into the phone and hit ‘end.’
Kaivan
I learned very quickly you should never kill a man, go home, and drink like a fish while you lied to yourself about why you did it. I did want revenge for being sent to prison for something that Dave, Frank, and Jim had done, but it wasn’t the driving force.
Raine. I couldn’t stop thinking about Raine, even though I’d sworn her off forever. She was a fucking plague on my mind that was only getting worse. The harder I tried to stop thinking about her, the more I saw her shy smile and the fire burning in her eyes when I pissed her off.
Putting the whiskey bottle to my lips, I took a swig and stared out my living room window. It was dark in the house, and the spirits that haunted this place kept me company. Fuck, maybe I was one of those spirits now.
What did I have to show for my life? My cut was beside me on the couch, and I ran my hand over the soft material, tracing The Lost Souls logo as gently as a lover would. I had nothing besides the club and what I did for them.
Roach, Hollywood, Mannix, and in some strange fucked up way, Wilder, were my family. They were each part of the small circle I’d die for, but there had always been something missing. Someone….
“You look sad,” Wilder said quietly.
“What in the ever-loving fuck!” I swore as I jumped to my feet.
My eyes searched the darkness behind me, and a shiver raced down my spine as Wilder stepped away from the wall a few feet away. My hand clenched into a fist on instinct before I could draw a decent breath. I grabbed at my chest.
“I swear your goal is to give me a fucking heart attack. You’d think I’d be used to this by now,” I grumbled.
“Why would I want to give you a heart attack?” he asked as I stomped past him to the kitchen to clean off the whiskey that had spilled all over my hand and arm. “There are far easier ways to kill someone. I could’ve slit your throat or shot you in the head. I guess if I wanted it to be slow, I could poison you by slipping something in your drink,” he said.
I stared at the bottle and then down the hall where I’d left Wilder.
“Yeah, definitely not finishing that now,” I mumbled, and turned the bottle upside down in the sink before washing my hands.
I went back into the living room and used some rags to mop up what I’d spilled. Despite the house falling down around me, I liked to keep it neat and orderly. Some habits died harder than others, and the ones from prison hardly faded.
“What are you doing in here, Wilder?”
He didn’t answer, just sat down in the recliner and stared out the window.
“Why are you sad?” he asked, and I glared at him. “You are sad, aren’t you? Or do I have the emotion wrong?”
I cocked my head and stared into Wilder’s eyes. Even though he had black and grey makeup on, like he was trying to blend in with the concrete and asphalt, I could see the confusion in his eyes. I’d always wondered why Wilder was so strange and why he asked the most fucked up questions, but a light had just gone on. He didn’t have the same emotions as the rest of us. That was why he was always so curious. He was some kind of path. My best guess was psychopath, and I was suddenly more relieved than ever that Wilder didn’t want to slit my throat, as he put it. He could’ve done it a hundred times by now, and I would never have felt a thing.
“Yes, the emotion was sorta sad,” I said, flopping down on the couch. It was going to reek like whiskey in here for days.
“What do you mean by sorta?”
I rubbed my face and tried to put into words what I had going on inside of me. “It’s hard to explain. There are things I wish for that can never be,” I finally said. “Some of those things make me sad, others angry and frustrated.”
Wilder rubbed at his chin. “Can you fix what is making you sad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, no, yes, it’s hard to know. I kinda fucked up, and I’m not sure I want to fix it.”
“But you can’t stop thinking about it and wondering if you should fix it,” Wilder asked.
“What the fuck, Wilder? Are you trying to be my shrink or what?” I growled and crossed my arms.
“Do you need a shrink?” he asked.
“I may need one shortly.” His brow furrowed, and I knew he didn’t understand my sarcasm. “Okay, yes. I may want to somehow repair what I fucked up,” I said, hating that he’d gotten me to admit out loud that I still wanted Raine. Even after all these years of anger and hatred, she could stir up so much emotion with a single look. I wanted her. The thought of her moving on with the guy from the bar had my blood boiling.
“Then, if you want my opinion, you should fix it.” Wilder nodded and resumed looking outside.
“Can I ask you a question?”
