I turned even redder, if that was possible. “It was good, I think.”
“You think?”
“I have nothing to compare it to.”
She thought for a second. “Are you still thinking about how it felt?”
“Yes,” I said, mortified.
“Well then, bitch, it was good.” She smiled. “I’m happy for you. Are you guys, like, a thing now?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No way. That was a one-time thing. There’s no way we can keep it up.”
“Might as well for the summer at least.”
“No way. My dad would crucify me. Seriously. He’d make a giant cross and nail me to it.”
“I believe you. So that’s it? You’re going to one and done your hunky step?”
“I guess. Don’t put it like that.”
“Sorry. You’re going to bang and dash your brother from a different mother?”
“Way worse.”
“Hump and chuck?”
“Just stop.”
We laughed together, and I felt an enormous weight lift from my chest. I had to admit, the stepbrother thing was eating at me, but it felt incredible to have Lydie tell me that it was okay. I really wasn’t going to do it again, even if I wanted to with my whole being, because I knew that it would ruin our parents if we were ever caught.
“Listen, Claire, I may be an asshole from time to time, but I do support you. I’m your bestie for life.”
“Whether I want you to be or not.”
She nodded. “Damn right.”
We changed the subject eventually and ended up wandering around downtown, drinking our coffee and laughing. I felt free and easy and happy as Lydie told me a bunch of stories about her slutty friends from high school. She wanted to talk more about the details of my night with Nate, especially info regarding the size of his manhood, but I declined to tell her.
Some things were meant only for me, and I wanted to keep it that way.
12
NATHAN
I had a lot on my mind when I woke up the next morning after only a few hours of sleep. The sun had barely risen by the time I was back out on the beach, running my ass off again.
I didn’t see anyone at all the day before. Once I got home from my little interrogation, I checked on Claire to make sure she was okay, but otherwise I didn’t bother checking in with my mother. She was probably either too drunk to care or just being her usual bitchy self.
Frankly, I had much more important things to worry about. The revelations of the night before were pretty huge, almost as huge as me fucking Claire until she could barely walk. I hoped I left her sore and limping the next day, and I wished I had stuck around a little bit to check it out.
But it was better I was gone all day. I didn’t want her to get ideas about shit between us. I may have fallen asleep with her, broken a rule or two, but I wasn’t the type of guy to make some spoiled rich girl into something more important than she was.
Claire was a good fuck. That was it. Her pussy was like crack and my cock was an addict, but I wasn’t going to give in to that shit. I got my fix and now I was done. It was going to be better that way, anyway.
Still, there was shit happening that we didn’t know about, important shit. It was no accident that those guys attacked our boat that day. I still couldn’t believe a local outfit like the Broken Hearts would be willing to attack their own people, which meant that they were specifically targeting us.
The further implications were staggering, but I didn’t have time for that shit. I wasn’t a bodyguard and I wasn’t a damn detective. Better that I give Jonathan the information I had and be done with it. He could definitely afford to hire some serious muscle.
I was good and exhausted by the time I got back to the house. I was drenched in sweat and nice and loosened up, to the point where I wasn’t worrying about any damn local cults or hot-as-fuck stepsisters.
I opened my laptop and immediately Googled the name I had been given: Eli Reddington. I stared at the search results, clicking them one by one, but found nothing important. As far as I could tell, there was no Reddington in the Outer Banks at all. I went through every page, meticulously following every lead, and found nothing.
Dan the barman probably had lied to me. I cursed, slamming shut my laptop lid. I should have pressed him harder, hurt him more, but I had held back. He was an innocent guy, after all. But apparently not so innocent. Now there was no way I was getting any more information from him. I was positive he was long gone.
That wasn’t like me. It wasn’t normal for me to go soft on a guy, especially when important, mission-critical information could ride on what he said. I was pissed off at how stupid I had been, and now I was back to square one. “Reddington” was a dead end. At least he had told me who the Broken Hearts were; it hadn’t been a total bust.