Sinner's Revenge(72)

“That’s pretty amazing. I’m glad she had such good friends,” Diem whispers, but her voice still sounds loud in the silence.

Moving on, I show her around the small kitchen and dining room, then down the hall to their bedroom. She walks in, but I stay outside the door. “I haven’t moved anything. I’ve only been here a few times since it all happened. This is their sanctuary, you know? I feel like an intruder.”

Nodding, she smiles. “I get it.”

I point across the hall. “This is where I stay. It was Black’s room, but Saylor gave it to me. For some reason, this place felt like home. She always made me feel welcome.”

“Well, it’s a lot better than your room at the cabin, that’s for damn sure.” She smirks and a little bit of the weight on my shoulders seems to lift.

I look at our reflection in the mirror, standing side by side in Dirk’s house. I don’t feel ashamed for being here with her. It feels right. Like this is truly what Dirk would have wanted. Even if he didn’t, I know Saylor would’ve approved and Dirk would’ve done whatever in the hell she told him to.

“I’ll tell you everything I know about him,” I say, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“I think I have enough to reflect on right now. I just need some time to let it all sink in.” She pulls my duffel bag from the floor and digs around until she finds one of my shirts. “Mind if I shower?”

I shake my head, drawing my eyebrows together in confusion. “You’re asking? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She rolls her eyes and a disgusted look crosses her face. “I don’t know,” she whines, putting her hands on her hips. “I think it’s all this emotional shit. I’m losing myself. I can feel it.” She rambles on a little longer before closing her eyes and putting her hand out. “Forget I asked. I’m going to take a shower. Why don’t you make yourself useful and order us a pizza or something.” She spins on her heels, mumbling to herself.

“You know who makes a great pizza?” I call, just as the bathroom door closes.

“Who?”

“Monica,” I say as I walk down the hall.

“I fucking hate you.”

There’s my girl.

“Monica didn’t really make this pizza, did she?” Diem asks, three slices in. We’re piled on the couch in the living room, in the same position Dirk and Saylor sat the last night they spent together. The memory doesn’t ache like it used to, it actually makes me feel pretty damn good.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Monica sucks at cooking. Remember the girl with the big tits that was in front of me when you walked in? She’s the cook.” Diem’s pointy little elbow finds my ribs and I groan.

“I was married once,” she says, just out of the fucking blue. I could stab her for ruining my good mood.

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter. I was twenty-two. We were in love.”

“Horseshit.”

“We were!” She laughs, but I know that if any man ever had Diem’s heart, she never would have let him go . . . unless she killed him, of course. Thinking back, she did tell me once that she was married. And that she’d killed her husband.

Now I’m curious. But I don’t want her to know that. “Okay. I’ll bite. What happened?” I ask, bored.

“It didn’t work out. He was in it for my money. But what he didn’t know was that I was in it for a different reason too.”

“What reason was that?” If she says sex, I’ll kill her.

“I needed to get close to his uncle. It was my first job. I had to make him fall in love with me, which wasn’t hard by the way, get him to marry me, then convince him to take me to Paris to meet his uncle, who was hiding out from my father.” She takes another bite of pizza. Clearly, she isn’t upset at all about any of this.

“So, he didn’t know who you were.”

“No. He just knew I was rich.”

“Well, how did you convince him?” She shoots me a look that has me wanting to growl. Sex. Of course. “That’s very trashy of you.”

She shrugs. “Call it what you want. But he did take me to Paris, and I did meet his uncle. He was even kind enough to take us on a fishing trip. Sadly, his uncle never made it back.”

“What about him? How did you convince him not to tell?” She starts to say something, but I cut her off. “If you say sex, I’ll shoot your left tit off.”

She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t have to convince him. He never made it back either.” What an evil bitch.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, confused as hell. Is she trying to prove how badass she is? Or is she just trying to push me away?