Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
By the time Poppy stops the car in the driveway of the house I’ve rented for the weekend, I’ve completely changed my mind about letting her drive. She’s fucking insane. “I don’t know what cereal box you got your driver’s license out of, but from now on, I’m driving.”
“I’m a perfectly safe driver and have never been in an accident that was my fault,” Poppy replies.
“You’ve been in accidents?”
“Not ones that were my fault,” she repeats.
“Right. Do me a favor and try to stay out of accidents. I happen to really enjoy this body of yours. I’d like to keep it in one piece,” I tell her. “Also, if my sister asks, you don’t have any horses.”
“Why would I tell her that? This is Texas. My family owns the largest ranch around these parts and you think we don’t have horses?”
“Imogen wanted to go horseback riding with our cousins. I got her to come here instead, under the assumption I was going to ask you if you had a horse she could ride. I don’t want my sister on a fucking horse. So, no, you don’t have any horses suitable for her to ride,” I explain.
“What happened to the whole my sister can make her own decisions thing? Where’d the feminist in you go?”
“Out the window when I think she’s going to do something that could hurt her. She’s never ridden a horse in her life, and animals are unpredictable.”
“You scared of horses, Sammie?” Poppy quirks a single brow at me, as if she finds this fact amusing.
“I’m not scared of anything,” I tell her.
“Except your mama.”
“Well, yeah, I’m not an idiot. Come on. Let’s get this over with, and I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For whatever might come out of my sister’s mouth.” I open the door, and by the time I walk around the car, Poppy is out and laughing at me.
“You were going to open my door, weren’t you?”
“I was.” I nod.
“Like I said, you’re supposed to be a feminist.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t have manners.” Placing my hand on Poppy’s lower back, I lead her up to the front door. We walk inside and I look around the small space. “Imogen?” I call out.
“Over here,” my sister yells from the back of the house.
I make my way through the hallway, following the sound. “Poppy wants you to come to dinner with her family.”
“Poppy’s here?” My sister’s movements still, and her voice rises slightly in pitch. I stop. I know that voice.
“Wait here,” I tell Poppy, dropping my hand from her back. Before I reach the end of the hall, Imogen is barreling towards me. She’s wiping her hands on a towel that she discards over her shoulder.
“Hey. Did you miss me already?” she asks, her tone much lighter as she throws her arms around my neck and lowers her lips to my ear. “Do not go back there.”
“What happened?”
“One of the soldiers got mouthy with me. I snapped. I don’t know what happened. I just… blinked and then he was dead,” Imogen says.
“What’d he say?” I step back, peering over her shoulder. I can’t see anything from here.
“Does it matter? I didn’t like it. And you’re being rude.” Imogen moves around me. “Hi, you’re obviously Poppy. I’m Imogen. And now I can see why my brother is so besotted with you. You’re absolutely stunning.”
I watch as my sister wraps her arms around Poppy—who has wide, help me eyes that are clearly pleading with me to do something.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Poppy says when Imogen finally lets go. “Sammie said you were in town, and family dinner is so boring and testosterone-filled with my three cousins. But if you want to, I’d love for you to come along.”
“That sounds lovely. Thank you. I’m just going to get cleaned up real quick. Wait for me out front, Sammie J. I won’t be long.” Imogen walks towards me. “I’ll handle this. Just give me five minutes.”
“Where are the other two?” I ask her.
“Ah… sleeping,” my sister says.
“Sleeping?” I question.
“Yep, they looked tired so I might have suggested they have a nap.” Imogen moves around me again.
Fuck. I cannot follow her. I can’t let Poppy see whatever the fuck Imogen’s done in that kitchen.
“Is she okay?” Poppy asks.
“Yeah, let’s go out front.” I step towards her.
“You know, whatever it is you’re hiding or don’t want me to see, you can just say: Poppy, you can’t see that.”
“What makes you think I’m hiding something?”
“You have a tell.” Poppy shrugs.
“I do not have a tell,” I scoff. There is no fucking way I have a tell.
“You do. It’s slight and most people probably miss it. But when you’re all up in your head about something, your little finger taps along your thigh three times. Left hand.”
I blink at her. No one has ever noticed that. I know I do it. It’s why I stop when I’ve tapped three times. That’s how long it takes me to realize it. “It’s nothing,” I assure her.
“Okay, then you won’t mind if I go get a glass of water?” Poppy lifts a challenging brow. “I’m assuming the kitchen is through there.”
“I’ll get it. Why don’t you go wait on that cute little porch swing out front.”
“Sammie, what’s back there?”
“I have no idea. I just got here too, remember?”
“Fine. I don’t need to know anyway.” Poppy turns and walks towards the front of the house. And then, out of fucking nowhere, she spins around and starts stomping towards the kitchen. My arm catches around her waist as she tries to brush past me. “Let me go!” she snaps.
“You do not want to go back there, Poppy,” I tell her.
“Actually, I think I do.” She twists and then she’s out of my hold and storming towards the kitchen. “Well, fuck… I was kind of expecting drugs or piles of cash or a naked guy. This is not what I thought you were hiding,” she huffs.
I stop behind her, taking in the scene. “Fucking hell. Really, Imogen?” I yell out to my sister. Two soldiers are slumped over the table—they’re breathing at least. The other one is pinned against the wall, a knife through each of his hands, his eyeballs shoved into his mouth, and is that…?
Oh, fucking hell, his tongue is poking out of his shirt pocket.
“You weren’t supposed to come back here.” My sister sighs. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you knocked these two out and then did that…” Poppy points to the guy pinned to the wall. “…to him. What did he say to you? Just so I know not to repeat it. I happen to like my eyes in their sockets.”
“Poppy, this is…” Fuck, how the hell do I even begin to explain this to an outsider? “You should go. Tell Jaxson something came up and I couldn’t make it.” There is no way she’s going to want us at dinner now.
Poppy spins around and looks at me. “Why can’t you make dinner?”
“Because… this. You probably should have Googled me when your cousin told you to do it. Maybe then you would have been prepared for this. At least you would have read the news articles about what my family is suspected of being involved in.”
“Let me guess… You’re in the mob, mafia, or something like that?” Poppy hums.
“Not exactly,” I tell her. We’re not a mafia family. “But we do make our money illegally—through organized crime.”
“Okay, well, you still need to have dinner. Imogen, you should wear something ugly. You’re too pretty to be sitting at a table with my feral cousins. They will eat you alive,” Poppy tells my sister.
“They could try.” Imogen laughs. Then she turns to walk out the door.
“Wait… What the fuck did he say to you?” I call after her.
“He said he couldn’t wait till you were done with her so he could try out the golden pussy that has you flying across the country,” Imogen grunts.
“You should have told me, not taken matters into your own hands,” I tell her.
“You were busy, and I was bored.” My sister shrugs and walks out of the kitchen.
Fucking hell, this is not the conversation I wanted to be having with Poppy yet. I wanted her to fall for me first. I wanted to make it harder for her to walk away.