Sinner's Revenge(32)

“I think that’s a great idea!” Carrie beams, and I level her with a look.

“Well,” I start, pushing my plate back and lighting a cigarette. “I was thinking that maybe I could just kill myself and save the misery of seeing your face another day.”

Rookie bites his lip. Carrie’s face grows red with anger. And Diem, well she simply smiles. “Or you could just ask me to leave.”

All eyes are on me, waiting for my comeback. I don’t really want her to leave, but I don’t want her to know that either. She has me by the balls, and she knows it. “Well?” she asks, looking at me expectantly. “What’s it gonna be, Zeke?”

Carrie crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair, challenging me with a look. Knowing I have to win her heart back, I prepare myself for the act of my life. I could give a shit less what Diem thinks, but I can’t stand the thought of Carrie hating me. I have to make this right, and to get a woman on your side, you have to think like one. And if Diem was going to play on Carrie’s emotions, then I was too. So I go in for the kill.

Reaching out, I take Diem’s hand in mine. She narrows her eyes in suspicion, glancing down at our joined hands. I let out a deep breath, drawing my brows together and frowning. “I’m sorry,” I start, hearing Carrie’s intake of breath at my words—knowing it is something we never say.

Softening my tone, I continue. “I know sometimes I’m not a good man. I say things I don’t mean and do things I shouldn’t, but the most important thing right now is for you to get better. And I promise to try harder. Forgive me? Please?”

If Diem’s look could kill, I’d be a dead motherfucker. But there are tears in Carrie’s eyes at my words. She knows the kind of man I really am. And she knows having Diem here is challenging for me. What she doesn’t know, is that I’m full of shit. But it doesn’t matter. I’m forgiven in her eyes, and now it’s Diem’s turn to be on the chopping block.

“Well? What’s it gonna be, Diem?” I ask, throwing her words back in her face.

Clenching her jaw, she speaks through her teeth. “Fine.”

I hear Carrie sigh before clapping her hands together. “Okay,” she says standing. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

When she’s out of earshot, Diem grips my hand and leans forward. “I hate you.”

Jerking my hand from hers, I give her a smirk. “Don’t worry, doll. The feeling is fucking mutual.”

After Rookie and Carrie leave, I fall back in my recliner. My mind is too occupied with Rookie’s idea for Death Mob to pay much attention to what’s going on around me. Before I realize it, my fingers are drawing circles on Diem’s waist while she lays across my lap in her usual position.

“I’m still mad at you,” I say, but I damn sure don’t sound like it.

“No you’re not.”

“You made me look like an ass in front of my friends.”

“Yeah, well I looked like an idiot, so I guess that makes us even. And the whole apology scene? That was a little much.” She yawns, and I consider shoving the remote down her throat until she chokes to death.

“I packed you some clothes, Diem,” I say, getting back to the topic that initiated the fight. “And if there wasn’t enough, you could have asked me to go back and get some more.”

“First, I don’t want you creeping around my house. Second, yes, you did pack me some clothes. Two pairs of underwear, a shitload of sweaters and a scarf. Next time, pull from the other side of the closet. That’s where I keep all my summer clothes.”

“Oh, forgive me. It’s hard to think when there’s a gun pointed at your head.” She looks up at me and rolls her eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. I’ve been walking around here for over a week wearing your T-shirt and nothing else. Surely you noticed I didn’t have any clothes.” I keep my face impassive. I guess I haven’t noticed. Maybe I really am a piece of shit.

Clearing my throat, my eyes focus on the TV. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She sits up in my lap. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I know just how you can do it.” Aw, shit. Here we go. Maybe she’ll want me to finger her again. I get excited at just the thought. But this time, I won’t let her come.

“How’s that?” There’s a little too much hope in my tone and she notices.

Tentatively, she tells me what she wants. “Take me out for ice cream.”

Well, shit. “Fine,” I say, the disappointment evident in my voice. She stares at me until I finally give in and look at her. “What?”