Chapter 24

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Liam

Pretty little birds shouldn’t fly too close to cages—the caged animals are the dangerous ones.

The pretty little blonde didn’t see me watching. She didn’t know she’d flown into the wrong room, or that the doctors who’d ordered her there had ended her pretty little life.  

They must’ve told her she’d be fine, that the pigs outside with their stomachs splitting at the seams would keep her safe, and that restraints would keep me miles away from that pearly throat of hers. Lovely stories, those, all of them gorgeous—none of them true.

My little bird didn't know how lovely she was, how beautifully slender, how perfectly vulnerable. She flitted around the room fiddling with all the lights and bells just to keep me stable.

Not a drug in the world could’ve straightened me out. I had bullets left to bury. Bullets that belonged in bodies that were too far from me.

She turned the TV on. She didn’t know I was listening. She had her eyes on the breaking news story. Some old, ugly, reporter couldn’t keep his mouth shut about a boy and girl on the run. A boy and girl I’d break to bits.

If I could’ve, I would’ve kicked in the television at the sight of Cal’s face on the damned screen. I’d be the only Evans worth talking about soon enough. Not him. I’d burn his name out of the headlines along with his ashes.

                                                                   ***

My lovely bird had a lovely name. I read it every time she bent over top of me to tend to the old sheriff’s gunshot wound. I called out, “Alice,” quick enough to get her attention, quiet enough to keep it, and she stiffened up straighter than a stick.

She turned to me, cheeks flushed shameless red, and smiled away her quiet attraction. Women were always beautifully simple, simple enough to trick, simple enough to trap, simple enough to strangle.

        “Good to see you’re awake, Mr. Evans.”

        “Is it now?”

        “Of course, you had us all worried. You were in bad shape last night,” she said.

        “We’re all in bad shape, Alice. Some of us are just better pretenders than others.”

        “I’m sorry?”

She turned off the TV, like she hadn’t heard me. What a gorgeous liar—the type who thought her pretty face would soften a man. She wouldn’t have smiled so brightly if she’d known what she was smiling at.

I’d danced with the devil the night before and there wasn’t any man left in me for her to manipulate.

        “Alice, can I tell you something? I don’t want to say it out loud cause I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest, mind if I write it down?”

She pulled a pen out of the pocket just above her bust. I lingered there for a moment, took in the view, and scribbled out the news that I’d pissed through my clothes and she hadn’t even noticed.

Careless girls make careless mistakes. She’d be replaced her for what she’d done. Her eyes went wild at the sight of the bed and the whole panic was gorgeous. She’d do anything to keep her job and I’d do everything to threaten it.

        “I’m so sorry, Mr. Evans, I’ll get someone in here to clean you up right away.”

        “I’d prefer if it was you.”

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