Sinner's Revenge(27)

“I used yours to clean the toilet yesterday.” On second thought, she couldn’t leave soon enough.


* * *

Six hundred dollars and three hours later, I’m standing in the kitchen while Diem and I argue over what goes where.

“Nobody puts spices in the same cabinet as everything else. You have a special place dedicated for spices only,” she says, speaking slowly like I’m a small child.

“It’s my fucking house. I’ll put the shit where I want to.”

“Well, as long as I’m staying here and cooking, I need it to be organized.” I glare at her, holding a bottle of cinnamon in one hand and a bag of sugar in the other. I start to just let her win and put it where she wants me to, but then she snaps her fingers at me. I drop the sugar and cinnamon on the floor, and walk out, leaving her cussing at my retreating back.

That night, I eat my first home-cooked meal since Thanksgiving at Dirk’s last year. The meatloaf was dry, the potatoes clumpy. and the peas tasted like rubber. But I didn’t complain. Diem managed to eat as much if not more than me. Because she seemed to be moving slower than normal, I offered to do the dishes.

“Damn right you’re doing the dishes. I cooked.”

Tomorrow, I would be cooking. And I plan to poison her food.

When I see her walking toward my room, I know she’s going to get in my bed. I let her go, hoping she’ll be asleep by the time I’m finished. But when I walk in, she’s not there. I glance across the hall to see the bathroom door shut. Good. I’ll just lock her ass out.

I spread out in the bed, relaxing into the double-sized mattress. I hear her turn the doorknob, and smile when she can’t get it open. “Your pillow’s on the couch.”

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the door is opened and she’s walking in, flipping on the light switch as she does. “I know. I got it.” She smiles, holding it in her arms along with the steak knife she used to break in. Her smile is an act though. I can tell she’s hurting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, easing down on the bed and laying on her side. Her back is to me, but I can see the rise and fall of her body as she struggles to breathe. She flips to her stomach, and I notice her hand fist into the pillow.

“Diem, you’re not here for my amusement. If something’s wrong, tell me so I can help you.” I wait patiently for her answer that never comes. “Fine. You could have at least cut the light off,” I mumble, getting out of bed and flipping the switch.

I lay there in the darkness, waiting for her breathing to slow. When it finally does and I feel like she’s asleep, I allow my own eyes to close. And I find myself wondering once again why I even care.





9


“ZEKE.”

“Zeke.”

“Zeke!” I wake up, wondering if she was calling my name or if I was dreaming. “Wake up.” Her voice fills the room, and I know I wasn’t dreaming.

“What?” I ask, my words thick with sleep.

“I need a favor.” I finally open my eyes to see her standing next to my side of the bed. She looks like shit. “I need you to put this on my back and then cover it with this.” She holds up some kind of ointment in one hand and some gauze in the other.

“Could you not have told me this when I asked earlier?” I grumble, sitting up.

“Well, I wouldn’t ask you at all, but I’m not a contortionist and can’t do it myself.”

I motion with my finger for her to turn around. When she does, she carefully removes my T-shirt and I’m left looking at her ass, barely covered by a pair of gray satin panties that don’t entirely cover her cheeks. I swallow at the sight. Her ass is toned, but not muscular. Her skin is flawless, and I want to touch it to see if it feels that way too. She shifts, and it jiggles slightly. My dick surges and I bite back a groan.

“Stop looking at my ass, Zeke,” she snaps. Reluctantly, I drag my eyes north until I land on the big cut that is centered in her back. It looks a little red and swollen, but other than that, it’s healing. Carrie did a good job of stitching her up.

“It looks good,” I say, squirting the ointment on her back.

“Squats.” I smile at her response.

“I meant the cut, babe. But your ass is nice too.”

“Don’t call me ‘babe.’ I’m not a pig.” I tape the gauze over the cut, and just ’cause I’m an asshole, I smack her ass when I’m finished. The joke’s on me though because my dick hardens further at the feel of it against my hand. Damn. It feels like satin. “I’m gonna let that one go. I’ll consider it payback for waking you.” Always playing games.