Secrets and Lies 6 (The Ferro Family) Read Online Free
Author: H.M. Ward
the things that matter anyway. Nate’s fridge was nearly bare when I got here, and now it’s totally empty. The guy hates grocery shopping, so he only had a few odds and ends that came from a convenience store down the block. I might have to stop there next time I head over here for another fuckfest. Assuming there is another.
I pause and consider not being with him again. That would suck. He’s been good for me, despite our rough start. I hope I’ve been good for him. Based on the way he spoke my name earlier, I know at the very least that he had a good time.
As I stare into the fridge, I fixate on the tiny light at the back of the icebox. It illuminates the small kitchen, casting shadows into the dark corners. I grab the carton, crack the top, and tip it back, guzzling the OJ. My throat hurts—a particular sexy act didn’t go according to plan—and the cool liquid feels good.
When I come up for air, I call back to Nate, “I think I bruised my uvula.”
His laughter reaches me and he says something, but I don’t hear him.
Something in the dark corner catches my eye in my peripheral, and I turn slowly. The hairs on my arms stand on end and my heart thumps wildly. Someone is watching me. I feel eyes on me. As I turn and look at the empty table and chairs, I scan the room. There’s no one here. I pad across the linoleum and toward the back door. The darkness hid it before, but I see it now. There’s a space, a dim crack of light between the jamb and the door—it’s open. Someone was here.
Stepping forward, I put my palm on the door and push it shut, and lock it. As I do so, a small slip of paper protrudes from the slit in the door.
I pull it out and scan the scribble:
PAY YOUR DEBT AT NINE SUNDAY NIGHT
My heart sinks as I stare at the note. It’s from Ferro. It has to be. I crumple up the paper and try to push aside the bile that rises up in my mouth. He was here, in the house? Did he watch us? That’s disgusting! Even worse, how did I not notice him? Couldn’t I tell if someone were here? Caution was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was secure in thinking Nate and I were the only ones in the house. Although, I doubt I’d be aware of anything but Nate, wrapped up in him the way I was.
I guzzle the rest of the juice and stuff the note in the carton before tossing it in the trash. Worry pinches my face and that uneasy sensation settles once more into the pit of my stomach. I grab Nate a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. As I pad back to his room, I decide I need to tell him what I did to get this house back before it blows up in my face. I just have to find the right time.
CHAPTER 4
T he right moment doesn’t present itself quickly. Nothing is effortless when it comes to me. Why did I think telling Nate I nearly castrated his biological father to get back his house would be easy? It’s nearly four in the morning by the time I roll out of his bed. Nate’s dark lashes flutter as he attempts to keep his gaze locked on my face, but sleep paws at him until he succumbs.
Quietly, I slip on my clothes without waking him. I hate goodbyes. Besides, what am I supposed to say to the guy? Thanks for blowing my mind and giving me more orgasms in one day than I’ve had in my entire life…by the way, I drank all your juice. Yeah, no thanks.
As I sneak out the front door and pull it closed, I feel like a douche. Not saying goodbye is lame, but I don’t want to wake him and I can’t stay until sunrise. As it is, the bus is a sore thumb and my stupid, oversized rodent also came out for a booty call last night. He doesn’t exactly operate in stealth mode. While I was having a good time, he went at it too. The little bastard made love to all the trashcans on the block.
As I stand at the curb in rumpled clothes and serious sex hair, I gape. There’s not one garbage pail left standing. They all lie on their sides with the contents strewn all over the asphalt.
“Crap,” I mutter to
I pause and consider not being with him again. That would suck. He’s been good for me, despite our rough start. I hope I’ve been good for him. Based on the way he spoke my name earlier, I know at the very least that he had a good time.
As I stare into the fridge, I fixate on the tiny light at the back of the icebox. It illuminates the small kitchen, casting shadows into the dark corners. I grab the carton, crack the top, and tip it back, guzzling the OJ. My throat hurts—a particular sexy act didn’t go according to plan—and the cool liquid feels good.
When I come up for air, I call back to Nate, “I think I bruised my uvula.”
His laughter reaches me and he says something, but I don’t hear him.
Something in the dark corner catches my eye in my peripheral, and I turn slowly. The hairs on my arms stand on end and my heart thumps wildly. Someone is watching me. I feel eyes on me. As I turn and look at the empty table and chairs, I scan the room. There’s no one here. I pad across the linoleum and toward the back door. The darkness hid it before, but I see it now. There’s a space, a dim crack of light between the jamb and the door—it’s open. Someone was here.
Stepping forward, I put my palm on the door and push it shut, and lock it. As I do so, a small slip of paper protrudes from the slit in the door.
I pull it out and scan the scribble:
PAY YOUR DEBT AT NINE SUNDAY NIGHT
My heart sinks as I stare at the note. It’s from Ferro. It has to be. I crumple up the paper and try to push aside the bile that rises up in my mouth. He was here, in the house? Did he watch us? That’s disgusting! Even worse, how did I not notice him? Couldn’t I tell if someone were here? Caution was the furthest thing from my mind at the time. I was secure in thinking Nate and I were the only ones in the house. Although, I doubt I’d be aware of anything but Nate, wrapped up in him the way I was.
I guzzle the rest of the juice and stuff the note in the carton before tossing it in the trash. Worry pinches my face and that uneasy sensation settles once more into the pit of my stomach. I grab Nate a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. As I pad back to his room, I decide I need to tell him what I did to get this house back before it blows up in my face. I just have to find the right time.
CHAPTER 4
T he right moment doesn’t present itself quickly. Nothing is effortless when it comes to me. Why did I think telling Nate I nearly castrated his biological father to get back his house would be easy? It’s nearly four in the morning by the time I roll out of his bed. Nate’s dark lashes flutter as he attempts to keep his gaze locked on my face, but sleep paws at him until he succumbs.
Quietly, I slip on my clothes without waking him. I hate goodbyes. Besides, what am I supposed to say to the guy? Thanks for blowing my mind and giving me more orgasms in one day than I’ve had in my entire life…by the way, I drank all your juice. Yeah, no thanks.
As I sneak out the front door and pull it closed, I feel like a douche. Not saying goodbye is lame, but I don’t want to wake him and I can’t stay until sunrise. As it is, the bus is a sore thumb and my stupid, oversized rodent also came out for a booty call last night. He doesn’t exactly operate in stealth mode. While I was having a good time, he went at it too. The little bastard made love to all the trashcans on the block.
As I stand at the curb in rumpled clothes and serious sex hair, I gape. There’s not one garbage pail left standing. They all lie on their sides with the contents strewn all over the asphalt.
“Crap,” I mutter to
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