Menace (Scarlet Scars Book 1) by J.M. Darhower

Author:J.M. Darhower [Darhower, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.M. Darhower
Published: 2017-01-16T05:00:00+00:00

Lorenzo does sleep, it turns out.

Me? Not so much.

For someone with a talent for zoning out, I can’t shut my mind off, lying next to him. I watch him sleep for a while, like a creep, staring at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Every time I move, he stirs a bit, and I feel guilty as hell, disturbing his slumber, so I just lay there in silence until I can’t take it any longer.

Carefully, I climb out of the bed, pulling my clothes on and tiptoeing out of the room before making my way downstairs. It’s still dark, but I can see where I’m going, in that space right before sunrise where the world is just starting to lighten.

I pause at the bottom of the staircase, my gaze drifting to the living room to the right of me, seeing someone standing in the doorway. A young guy, dressed in a black cable-knit sweater, wearing khakis and black boots. The younger brother, I’m guessing.

He shakes his head, staring into the living room. “Do I even want to know what happened to the couch?”

“It got a hole in it,” I say vaguely, not sure how much Lorenzo would share with him.

The guy startles at the sound of my voice, turning around. “You’re not Lorenzo.”

“Well, that’s something to be grateful for, huh?”

He seems to be about my age and looks just like Lorenzo… or well, how I imagine Lorenzo would look if the world hadn’t hurt him. Fresh-faced, wide-eyed, and kind of adorable, frankly. How he keeps any sort of innocence living in the same house as the menace upstairs, I don’t know, but I commend him for it.

Every moment I spend with the guy, I feel myself slipping further.

“I’m Leo,” he says, holding his hand out. “You are?”

“Morgan,” I say, shaking his hand lightly. Manners. Huh.

Someone’s apple fell far from the family tree.

“I’d ask how you know my brother, but well, I’m sure I probably don’t want to know.”

“Probably not,” I admit.

Before either of us can speak again, there’s noise on the stairs, footsteps that aren’t trying to tiptoe. Leo glances up, something akin to shock crossing his face before he spins around so fast it’s like he’s twirling. “Jesus, Lorenzo! Really, bro? Really?”

I glanced behind me, eyes widening. Lorenzo’s buck-naked, like the prince running through the glass tunnel, waltzing down the stairs like he’s not got a care in the world.

He’s groggy, only half-awake, everything prominently on display.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dick before, Pretty Boy,” Lorenzo says, skirting around me, brushing against me. “I know you’ve got one. I used to change your diapers, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember,” Leo says, “but you certainly remind me enough.”

“That’s because it earns me the right to do whatever I damn well please,” Lorenzo says. “I wiped your ass, made your lunches, taught you how to treat a woman, and I let your girlfriend eat my groceries. Let me air my balls out without jumping my ass about it.”

Leo

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