The Bad Things (Book 5)

Chapter 8. Instinct

Benny sat at the desk and stared at his laptop. Dad, Angel, and Jesse hovered over Benny's shoulder and stared at the computer. They weren't speaking, but they appeared to be lost in thought or irritated.

"What's going on?" I asked.

All their heads snapped up in my direction. Dad mashed his lips in a straight line. Benny looked up at Dad. Jesse and Angel shared a glance.

I stepped down the three stairs away from the entrance of the study and arched my eyebrow at them. "Is it a secret?" My voice held nothing but sarcasm.

Benny smirked. "If you want it to be."

"Is it about me?" My teasing faded as I stepped around the large oak desk.

"Yes," Dad answered. "We think we know where Harold is or was. That means we're getting closer to him. He's hiding."

"He knows that I know. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he knows I'm with you," I said. "Look, you guys are all big and bad. There is no denying that, but you can't underestimate Harold. He's crazy, but he's not stupid. Underestimating him would only be a disadvantage to us because he would take us by surprise."

Angel pursed his lips and shared a glance with Dad. Angel looked back at me. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Keep your eyes on him. He won't come at us head-on, I guarantee that," I said and shrugged. "He never did play fair."

"You seem to know him really well," Jesse said.

"How could I not? He raised me. I know every side of that shady son of a bitch. Half of my life I spent hiding from him, running from him, or trying to defend myself against him. He's strong, fast, and intelligent. If anyone has a chance against him, it's me."

By the time I finished talking, they were staring at me with unspoken pity and concern. It wasn't necessary. After what I went through with Harold, it only made me stronger and wiser. Maybe it was the reason I was still alive.

I left the study, and when I reached the foyer, I stopped. Andrea, Abigail, Chelsea, and a few other girls that I didn't know stood near the front entrance talking and giggling.

Andrea stopped when she noticed me. Abigail gazed up at me and smiled. The other girls stared at me like I was their favorite piece of candy.

"Uh, hi," I said and grimaced, uncomfortable under the weight of their stares.

"Come here, Andy," Andrea said. Andrea introduced me to her friends, but I forgot their names as soon as she spoke them.

My eyes were on Abigail. Abigail wore a tight strapless red dress. It hugged her breasts, hips, and thighs. I wasn't paying much attention to the conversation. However, they said something about going out to a club.

The other girls disappeared out the front door, but I grabbed Abigail before she could get away. Abigail looked at me, confused. My mouth watered—that sense that consumes you when you smell something delicious, yet rage bubbled inside of me at the same time somehow. They weren't a good mix.

"What is it, baby?" Abigail asked. Her eyes held such innocence that the anger faded, and it left behind a fiery passion.

I grabbed her face between my hands and smashed my lips against hers. Men were comparable to animals when it came to their women, whether they would admit it or not. They didn't want another man to approach, speak to, or think about their woman. Abigail didn't understand because she couldn't see herself through my eyes.