Page 30

Hitting him with his truck.

My personal favorite was walking into his home and scaring him.

I just knew that Black would react accordingly to that.

The drunk would have no idea what hit him.

“Or maybe I’ll just get Seraphina to say she was hurt by him.”

I stiffened at the mention of Seraphina.

If there was one woman who deserved to be in a jail cell with me, it was that woman.

I would arguably say that she deserved to be here and not me.

The worst thing I’d ever done was walk into a place that I wasn’t wanted—today, at that.

Seraphina, on the other hand?

That woman had killed her own sister because she’d been drunk off her ass. At school.

She’d given her younger sister and her friend—Charleigh—a ride home one day after school and had crashed. She’d killed Sonja and had seriously injured Charleigh.

One would think she’d learn a lesson after that, but no, not Seraphina Vanderbilt.

“How do you know Seraphina?” I found myself asking.

“She’s who I was seeing to make Charleigh jealous.” The man sighed. “It didn’t work.”

No, it wouldn’t.

It probably only pushed Charleigh further away.

This guy was an imbecile.

Seraphina was working him like a fiddle.

“Gates,” I heard called out. “Shut the hell up already.”

I stiffened when I heard that smoky, decadent voice.

Then Black appeared, slinging his jacket over his shoulder.

I sighed, wishing I was doing the same.

“Let’s go,” he said, surprising me.

I blinked. “Go where?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“I drove.”

“Foot of snow on the ground,” he said. “You’re not driving anywhere.”

Of course there was. The bad thing was, my vehicle wouldn’t make it. I drove a Volkswagen Fox with the baldest tires that I could get away with and still not get a ticket for.

Traction in the snow was laughable.