Psycho: Riot Kings of Coeur d'Alene by Gypsy Reed

Author:Gypsy Reed [Reed, Gypsy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-01T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I’m gonna go catch a nap if this chick starts bawling. Her legs give out on her as I wait for what comes next.

I’ve never seen anyone so hung up on sandwiches before, but maybe that’s all she knows how to make. I’m no Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen so I can’t judge her for it.

Iris begins to shake a moment before peels of laughter leave her body. Okay so if the death of Chase Ashton makes her this damn happy I can work with that. She may not be so bad after all, even if she is a rich chick.

That’s only if I can believe anything that comes out of her mouth. But you know how your gut tells you if someone is lying to you? Mine tells me she’s honest and if she’s still keeping shit from me, which I know she is then it’s for some bullshit reason like she thinks she’s protecting me.

Well, fuck that.

If anyone needs saving it’s this chick. The second she starts looking at me like I’m Batman? I’m out of here even if I have to swim because I’m nobody's damn hero.

The laughter reaches her eyes and changes the shape of her face. Relaxing the worry I just now noticed she wore like make-up on it.

“Did you kill him?” she asks me, her eyes searching mine.

“My best friend did.” I sit a good distance from her crazy ass. The dark hair suits her, but she’s far too pale and skinny as hell. I get the feeling this is not normal for her. She’s not one of those anorexic chicks because she eats like I do, so someone made her like this.

I go over that thought again just to make certain my mind is right about it. I’m not overly paranoid, but most people I’ve met aren’t paranoid enough. Paranoia keeps motherfuckers topside and breathing.

She’s not unattractive, it’s the state of her that is. I’ve had time to digest a sandwich and what information she imparted to me.

“The world is a better place without him in it,” she says then begins to eat with a sly smile on her full lips.

“There are those who would say the same about me when my time comes.” I don’t know why I tell her that. Yes, I do, I’m not her hero if that’s what she’s angling for, being nice and sharing her sandwiches with me.

“There’s nobody left to even miss me when I die. We all have our crosses to bear, Lip.” She shrugs and some of her long dark hair falls across her shoulder.

The sound of my name on her lips makes my dick hard, but so does a stiff breeze. It doesn’t mean anything. I’ll go rub one out when I’m done eating.

Do we all have our crosses to bear? That’s some philosophical bullshit right there.

If this chick owns a huge luxury yacht she’s been handed everything on a silver platter from birth, so what the fuck would she know about that?

“There are worse things in life than being alone,” I tell her.

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