Wretched (Never After Series)
Wretched: Chapter 7

That little fucking liar.

Technically, I suppose, she never told me her name.

But she’s a Westerly. And I… I did tell her my name. And that I was starting a new job.

Fuck.

I’ve been an agent for eight years, since I was twenty-four, and not a single time have I questioned myself. But right now, seeing the girl who won’t leave my memories standing right in front of me while I’m in an active undercover investigation? The odds are definitely not in my favor. And to be completely honest, I’ve already dropped the ball, because if I was doing my job, I would have recognized who she was when I studied her photos in our files. Maybe if I had looked a little closer, I would have noticed the resemblance, but my pretty girl is not this black-haired chick with piercings that cover the length of her ears and brown eyes that stare so deep they char my skin.

“I know,” Dorothy snaps me out of my daze.

I quirk a brow. “Know what?”

She scoots closer to my side. “You’re staring at my sister. She’s different. A lot of people call her off putting. She doesn’t get out much.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not her fault though. Our mom, she… she didn’t treat Evie too nice, you know? Caused a lot of issues.” She taps her head. “Up here.”

The urge to keep asking questions, to learn everything about Eveline Westerly, is strong, but I bite back the notion, unsure if I want to know because of the case or because she’s under my skin; the energy wafting off her, even now, is heavy enough to make me teeter on the edge of sanity.

There’s never been anyone who’s affected me like this. It’s the reason I approached her at the club, and it’s definitely the reason why I fucked her against the dirty bathroom tile while she screamed into my mouth.

My eyes track Eveline and Zeke as they walk to the table, his arm slung around her shoulders and a slight smirk lining the corner of her lips. Annoyance flits through me as I take in their compatibility. She’s at ease with him. She trusts him.

Are they dating? He’s way too old for her.

The second they reach us, our gazes lock, my jaw clenching as she slides in the booth first, sandwiching herself between the wood paneling and Zeke who sits next to her.

A hand touches my arm and jolts me out of my staring problem, and I look over to Dorothy, remembering where I am, and most importantly, what I’m supposed to be doing.

You’re Brayden now.

“You hungry?” Dorothy asks, a grin spreading across her face.

She looks so innocent and sweet, it’s hard to believe she’s involved in any criminal activity. But I learned a long time ago to never judge a book by its cover. The best criminals are the ones who you’d never suspect. They’re the ones you make jokes with, the ones you learn to trust, the ones who become your best friend while they stab you in the back and steal everything out from under you.

My gaze drifts down the front of Dorothy’s pale-yellow dress and then back up to her face, her cheeks flushing crimson from my perusal. “I could eat.”

“I’ve already got them cookin’ up somethin’ in the back for us,” Zeke cuts in.

My eyes shoot to Zeke and then flick toward Eveline, unable to keep myself from engaging with her. “How about you?” I jerk my chin in her direction. “You going to eat?”

Dorothy laughs beside me, covering her mouth and shaking her head to stifle the noise. “Please, Evie never eats here.”

Eveline’s gaze burns through mine until I feel it in my toes.

“Why’s that?” I prod. “You too good for bar food, sweetheart?”

She straightens, but she doesn’t say a word, just keeps watching me with those lethal fucking eyes of hers.

“They’re good for a quick indulgence every once in a while,” she finally replies. “But other than that, there’s nothing really special about them. Hardly remember they were ever in my mouth once I’m done.”

Dorothy makes a face. “Gross, Evie. Why’d you say it that way?”

“That sounds pretty pretentious,” I cut in, annoyed that she’s hinting at our night together as forgettable. I stretch my arm across the back of the booth, settling deeper into Dorothy’s side.

Eveline gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely tips up in the corners. But it’s enough to light a spark in my stomach, knowing I’m getting a rise out of her.

Does she remember the name I gave her?

Maybe she hooks up a lot, and I’m just one in a long line. The thought causes a twinge of discomfort to squeeze my middle.

It’s weird she isn’t calling me out about it, and I can’t decide whether I want her to remember or if I’d rather she forget. The latter would be the easiest. But deep down, I know the truth, as much as I wish I didn’t have to acknowledge it. I want her to remember every second of our time, the same way it’s been burned into my brain ever since it happened.

And now she’s watching me.

In fact, she hasn’t stopped watching me since the moment I walked in, like she’s peeling back my layers one by one and rearranging them to fit in her head.

I feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at her mercy. Which means she’s a huge liability.

My throat closes, nerves racing underneath my skin.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Excuse me,” I say, my hand reaching out to press against Dorothy’s shoulder, suddenly needing to have a few minutes to gather myself.

Her brows draw in, bottom lip puffing out the slightest bit. “You okay?”

Forcing a grin, I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

She moves, sliding out of the booth and standing, and I’m right behind her, slipping past as I head toward the dark hallway that leads to the restrooms.

But it isn’t her gaze I feel searing into my back.

My legs burn as I hustle to the small bathroom, throwing open the door and closing it quickly behind me, then rushing to the sink and turning it on, cupping the cold water in my hands and splashing it on my face. The icy sensation shocks my nerves back into a steady state and my knuckles tighten around the edge of the counter, water droplets dripping off my nose and into the sink’s basin.

Get it together. This isn’t a problem. She isn’t a problem.

Cracking my neck, I twist to the paper towel dispenser, grabbing a handful. I wipe off my face before blowing out a deep breath and talking myself into a fake confidence I don’t truly feel as I walk out of the bathroom and back into the dark hall.

My footsteps stutter when I run into Eveline, resting against the wall, where she’s clearly waiting for me.

Her eyes are downcast as she inspects her nails, her black hair pulled back, showcasing the flawless expanse of her neck. My gaze trails along her figure, drinking her in like she’s water in the desert. She’s so different from who she was the night at that club, with her ripped oversized band tee, black skirt, knee-high stiletto boots, and silver rings, but this suits her more; the deep purple on her lips somehow even sexier than the bubblegum pink she was wearing the night we met.

“Nicholas.” Finally she glances up, straightening off the wall and tilting her head. “Or should I say Brayden?”

She takes a step closer, and as much as I try not to, flashes of her small frame in my hands fly through my mind. How she molded perfectly to every inch of my body. How pliable and warm she was when I wrapped her around my waist and split her with my cock.

I clear my throat, running a hand through my hair.

“Yeah,” I wince. “Sorry about that.”

Her eyes narrow and she takes another step. “About what?”

“What?” I repeat.

“What are you sorry about, exactly?”

For everything. I’m sorry I met her then. I’m sorry I know her now. And I’m sorry she isn’t anywhere near the person I imagined her to be. But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I stuff Nick Woodsworth away, deep down inside where I won’t be able to replace him, and I let Brayden Walsh take center stage.

I shrug, adopting a crooked grin on my face.

Her eyes flash, lips pursing the smallest bit. She takes another step closer. “There’s two options, Brayden. You either lied to me about your name then or… you’re lying now.”

“It’s not that deep, sweetheart.” I laugh. “I’ve met your type a thousand times. Lonely girl at the bar, playing hard to get but desperate to get fucked. All the classic signs of a clinger.”

My stare dips along the expanse of her neck as she throws her head back and laughs. “Please, I’m not the one who was begging for a name and following me into private spaces just to get a taste.”

Now it’s me who steps forward, my breath blowing softly on the top of her head.

Goddamn, she’s short.

She cranes her neck to meet my gaze, and I suck in a deep breath when she does.

I thought at first that I missed the striking blue of her eyes from the night we met, but this close, the dark browns swirl with yellow and a dash of green creating a kaleidoscope of color so deep and fucking beautiful they suck me in and drag me under like quicksand.

My cock hardens.

No. I’d give anything to go back to those basic blues.

“And what a delicious taste it was,” I rasp.

She sneers. “You’re a pig.”

Leaning down, my mouth grazes against her ear. “I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman, and I won’t apologize for lying when it ended with you shaking around my cock.”

“Did I?” She tilts her head. “I don’t remember.”

I grin. “Now who’s lying?”

She hums, bringing up her fingers and smoothing them down the opening of my jacket. I stare at the movement, my hands clenching into fists to keep from reaching out and dragging her into me. To remind her just how much she loved how I made her feel.

“And this is the new job you’re starting?” she murmurs, keeping her attention on every place she touches. “Working with my dad?”

“Just a new venture,” I murmur. “Broadening my horizons. I didn’t know he was your dad.”

Her head tilts, as though she’s taking in what I say and letting it sink into her brain, slotting it away to use against me later.

I’ve never met anyone quite like her.

She’s unnerving in a type of way that makes your skin crawl. She’d be a fantastic interrogator.

Her fingers wrap around my jacket and she rises up on her tiptoes, dragging me down until her lips skate across my jaw. “Nicholas. Brayden. Whatever the fuck your name is… stay the hell away from me and stay the hell away from my family. You aren’t welcome here.”

She drops her hold and pushes me roughly before turning around and walking away.