Branded Read online

  My uncle’s probably desperate for vengeance by now, which is why I can’t go back to him. At least … not until Dixie’s buried six feet deep.

  “You don’t even have a plan, do you?” she asks with a gleeful voice, almost as if she’s laughing at me.

  But I’m not the one with a gun pointed at me. She is.

  I turn to face her with the most serious face I can muster right now because I’m close to killing her off and ending this charade. At least then she’ll shut up for a second.

  “You should be thankful,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

  “Thankful?” she repeats, almost choking on her laughter. “Why? For threatening me with a gun?”

  “For saving your ass,” I growl back.

  Now she bursts out into laughter. Visibly. Shaking. Like she can’t catch her breath.

  I make a fist with my hands. Fuck her and her ungrateful ass.

  “Sorry, I just can’t,” she says, wiping away a tear. “It’s just too funny.”

  I march toward her, grab her by the hair, and yank her head back. “If it wasn’t for me, my uncle would be ripping out your toenails right about now,” I hiss.

  It’s the truth. He’d probably skin her alive too. She doesn’t know him like I do. He’s a vicious man when he’s angry.

  “You’d better be grateful,” I add, marching around the room, thinking of what I’m going to do now.

  “For what? For taking me to some stanky, nasty-ass motel on some filthy road?” she says.

  I stop in my tracks. “You wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Am I really, though?” She angles her head, the look on her face instantly transformed from punchable to dead serious. “Because you’re still holding a gun to my face. You’re the one keeping me captive.”

  When I open my mouth, I have nothing to say, so I shut it again and grind my teeth instead. It takes me a few seconds to form a reply.

  “Being with me is the better option here, trust me.”

  “Not in my book,” she says, averting her eyes.

  “You really wanna die that badly?” I say, leaning against the dresser in front of the bed.

  “Maybe.” She gazes up at me from underneath her lashes with those same eyes. Those eyes that once looked at me in awe. The same eyes that once made me want to go to my knees and worship the very ground she walked on. Those same eyes that made me swear I’d never go back to that place where everything went to shit.

  “Or maybe I don’t wanna be stuck here with you.”

  That hurt. Physically. I felt it in my fucking bones.

  Fuck her. She’s only trying to get under my skin. That’s her goddamn plan—to manipulate me into giving her a swift end—but I won’t be that merciful. Not after what she did. She deserves everything coming to her and more.

  It’ll be me who gives her all the pain in the world.

  I just haven’t decided yet on when, where, and more importantly … how.

  First, I need a cig. I fish in my pockets and take one out, lighting it in my mouth. She continues to stare at me as though I have something on my face. Or maybe she’s trying to make me disappear. At this point, I honestly don’t know what she wants anymore. She’s still as reckless as I remember.

  “You can’t smoke in here,” she says, her brows drawing together.

  I take a drag and blow out the smoke before replying. “Says who?”

  She points at a small sign hanging above the bathroom door.

  I shrug and take another drag. Too late to stop now. Just like this train wreck of a situation.

  She licks her bottom lip, and says, “Can I have one too?”

  I frown and glare at her, taking another drag. Is she serious?

  “For old time’s sake,” she says, holding out her hand.

  Sighing, I take another cig from my packet and give her one. She puts it in her mouth and leans in so I can light it. She takes a drag, and when she blows out the smoke, she moans.

  “God … that’s good.”

  The way she says it, so sexually charged, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have to will my boner down right now. Goddammit.

  I swiftly turn and face the mirror on the wall before she sees. I’m still watching her, though, and from the obvious smirk on her face, she definitely saw.

  I take another drag, then another. I’ll probably finish the entire pack before the night is over.

  Fuck me and that fucking girl sitting on that bed. If it wasn’t for her and those goddamn bombs she set up, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Why the fuck did she do it anyway? Does she hate my uncle that much? More than she hates me?

  When I’m sure my boner is gone, I turn around and lean against the dresser with folded arms. “Tell me why you blew up the hotel.”

  “I already told you I’m not gonna tell,” she says, making a face. “You should’ve told me you’ve gone deaf, Brandon.”

  I ignore the obvious dig and pry some more. “Is it because of me? Because I work for him?”

  “No, but it’s a nice coincidence that I almost got to take you down too,” she says, cocking her head to taunt me.

  I’m done playing games, so I push out my cig into the wood on the dresser and march toward her, shoving my gun straight between her eyes. I unlock the safety.

  “Give me one good fucking reason not to pull this trigger right now,” I say.

  She gazes up at me with that same courageous look, her radiant eyes still as beautiful and wicked as they were before … before we were ruined to ashes. “I can’t.”

  The clock hanging on the wall ticks eerily loud. Seconds feel like an eternity as I decide her fate. Just one pull on the trigger and she’s gone forever. Evaporated. Just like my happy memories of her that single devastating night.

  I could finish this right now. Make my uncle happy. Make my papa proud. Make the world whole again.

  But it wouldn’t change a thing about the past.

  Slowly, her hand rises to meet mine, our eyes never breaking contact. When our fingers touch, lightning shoots through my veins. She wraps her hand around mine and grasps the gun.

  “You can’t,” she says, her voice unwavering, just like her spirit.

  My throat feels dry. After all these years, she can still read my mind and heart as if it’s child’s play. Fuck.

  I sigh and lower the gun, tucking it back into my holster. I’ll use it if I need to, but right now, I can’t kill her. Not until I find out why she did what she did.

  We hate each other so much, yet we’re forced to be in each other’s vicinity. It’s like someone up there has decided they want us together. After not seeing her for so long, it’s hard for me to believe she’s actually here, in the flesh.

  We parted ways on such bad terms. It’s still in the forefront of my mind and probably hers too. It’s on the tip of her tongue, the seething hatred spewing from her eyes. She loathes me as much as I despise her.

  But we had love … once.

  A long time ago, everything was different, so different, and I don’t even know how we ended up this way. Where did we go wrong?

  * * *

  Past

  September 21st

  I go to the Burrell farm on my own accord. I’ve never been invited onto the property, not by Dixie or her family. I know how they feel about me and my papa, but I gotta try someday. I don’t think they’re as racist as my papa tries to make me believe. He just doesn’t like them for some fucked-up reason.

  But screw him. I’m going to find my girl and hang out with her instead.

  I walk onto the property and press the doorbell. A dog barks loudly, so I straighten my back, wondering if I’m gonna have to defend myself. However, a hulking man opens the door and blocks its path. He kicks the bulldog in the side, and growls, “Back off, Sparky.”

  “Uh … hi, Mr. Burrell,” I say.

  “What do you want?” he spits, looking around. “If you’re trying to sell me stuff, I’
m not interested.”

  He tries to close the door, but I put my foot inside first, stopping him. “Wait. I’m not selling you anything. I just wanna know if your daughter is home.”

  “My daughter?” He frowns, narrowing his eyes. “Wait a minute … are you Locklear’s son?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No,” he says.

  He tries to shut the door again, but I persist. “Wait, sir—”

  “I’m not having one of them redskins hang out with my daughter. No fucking way,” he barks. “Leave.”

  What the hell?

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Leave,” he hisses, then he slams the door shut before I can say another word.

  I knew they were racist … but I never expected him to say it out loud like that. Now I know why his sons are the way they are.

  As I walk off, I kick a rock lying on the ground. It ricochets against a tree and hits me straight in the face.

  “Ow!” I grab my cheeks. “Fuck, that hurt,” I mutter.

  Someone laughs. As I take my hand off my face, Dixie’s smile makes me forget the pain instantly. She’s at the gate’s entrance to the property, just closing the door of her truck.

  “Hey,” I say as she walks up to me.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “I dunno … thought we could hang out or something,” I say, trying to look casual, throwing my hand behind my head. However, I hit a tree branch instead, which makes her giggle even more. God, I feel like such an idiot sometimes.

  But the smile quickly dissipates from her face. She’s staring at her house. When I turn my head, I spot her dad glaring at us through the window.

  “Um … I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she says, licking her lips.

  “You’re not afraid of your dad, are you?” I ask, raising a brow.

  Her face turns completely sour. “Please don’t …”

  Oh, I didn’t think it was that tough.

  Well, shit. I made this whole conversation awkward as fuck.

  “Sorry,” I say, rubbing my arm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “It’s fine. I just don’t …” She sighs. “Look, I wanna, but …” She throws another glance at the house.

  I get it. She values her dad’s opinion, maybe more than she wants to let on, and that’s understandable. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me. Or anyone who looks like me, for that matter.

  Does she know? Probably. It’d surprise me if she didn’t.

  Is that why she doesn’t wanna hang out with me? Because of what her family would think of her? Would dating a Native American … the redskin … make her feel inferior?

  “I get it,” I say, holding up my hand.

  Disappointment oozes through my veins, poisoning my entire mood.

  “Forget I asked,” I say, trying to walk off.

  However, she trails me. “Brandon. Wait.”

  “What?” I say, coming to a full stop and spinning on my heels. “You want me. Then you don’t want me. Which is it? Make up your mind.”

  “I … it’s complicated,” she says, swallowing.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I reply.

  “My family, they don’t—”

  “I don’t care what your family thinks. I’m not dating them. I’m dating you. I care what you think,” I say courageously.

  “Dating?” she scoffs, and she narrows her eyes.

  “Well, I just assumed …” I mutter, shrugging.

  I didn’t think she’d hang on that single word.

  She puts her hand against her side. “Hmm … you assumed.”

  “Sorry,” I say, breathing out a sigh. Then I turn and keep walking. “Never mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” she says after a few seconds.

  I stop in my tracks again. When I turn around, she adds, “If you call me your girlfriend.”

  My heart just skipped a fucking beat.

  Dammit, Dixie Burrell.

  A smirk slowly forms on my lips. “You think?”

  She crosses her arms. “As long as you don’t force me to call you my boyfriend.”

  Well, it’s one half of the bargain, so I may be able to live with that. For now.

  “You’re probably going to change your mind about that someday …” I say, wriggling my brows.

  “Maybe … or maybe not. We’ll see,” she muses, nodding her head in a sassy way. However, when she glances over her shoulder again, she immediately stops smiling. “But not today, okay?”

  I get it. She’s afraid of what they’ll think of her. She values her family’s opinion just as I value my papa’s. At least I did … once.

  Now, I’m not sure what to think anymore.

  All I know is that I don’t wanna be the outcast anymore.

  I wanna be with her.

  Dixie Burrell.

  My girlfriend.

  Well, secret girlfriend anyway.

  We’ll work on the public part later.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dixie

  Present

  As he paces around the room like a lion stuck in a cage, I wonder what’s on his mind.

  Since I lowered his gun, he immediately withdrew into his own headspace again. It’s as if he couldn’t face the fact that he was unable to pull the trigger, which made me smile like a gleeful, vengeful little witch.

  I admit it made me happy. Just a tiny fraction.

  I’ve managed to make myself invulnerable in his eyes.

  Even though we hate each other’s guts, he still cares about my life. He’ll never admit it out loud, not with our track record.

  It’d be an insult to me and my family too.

  I purse my lips and then take another drag of the cig he gave me. It’s a small comfort in a precarious situation. Besides, it’s a tiny fire in the palm of my hands. I could set this whole room ablaze, forcing him outside and thus setting myself free.

  The question is … is it the smart thing to do?

  There’s a whole host of Josiah’s men out there looking for us. Josiah probably can’t wait to get his dirty hands on me and torture the living shit out of my body, which is why it’s in my best interest to stay as close as I possibly can to the only thing that’ll keep me out of danger.

  Brandon Locklear.

  As much as I hate to think about it, he’s my only option right now.

  My only choice if I wanna make it out alive.

  Is it worth it, though?

  Being cooped up in here with him?

  My worst enemy?

  I blow out some smoke and tap on the cig, releasing the ash on the already stained red carpet.

  Fuck Brandon and the white horse he thinks he rode in on.

  I don’t need him to rescue me from anyone. I could do that on my own … if I had his gun.

  There’s only one way to pry it out of his hands, and that method involves both of us doing the thing we hate so much. Getting close. So close … I can feel the burn igniting my skin. Just like old times.

  But I can’t ever forget the darkness in his soul.

  He’s a monster who enjoys the pain and suffering of others.

  I can see it in his eyes; the murderous intent. The same thing I saw that night of the bonfire. The same darkness eating away at him.

  A darkness I still can’t fully comprehend.

  * * *

  Past

  October 30th

  The fire crackles loudly as two boys from school throw more wood onto the pile. The pillar of smoke reaches into the sky, the flames lighting the whole area. It’s magnificent and frightening at the same time. We’re lucky the stones surrounding the area contain it. No one’s allowed to pass them. At least, that’s the unwritten rule we have.

  There are no teachers here to monitor us. This is the only student organized event where they aren’t allowed, and I love it. We can swear all we want, drink and eat whatever we want, stay up as late as we want to … or as long as our pare
nts allow us to. Some prefer to lie to their parents, but I don’t hang out with them.

  As I snuggle up closer to Brandon, I try not to pay attention to them. This bonfire wouldn’t be the same without him. It’s much cozier, much nicer than it ever was when I was still with Derek.

  I can’t believe I ever dated that idiot. Ever since we broke up, he’s been harassing girls left and right, trying to score. But none of the other girls want anything to do with him after that mess of a show in the hallway the other day.

  Luckily, he hasn’t shown his face here yet. The bonfire would be a lot less fun if he did, so I’m praying to God he stays home or wherever the fuck he is. Probably hanging out with my brothers at some bar, drinking booze.

  That’s what they always do.

  I don’t even care anymore. I used to help them get off the hook with Dad whenever they came home drunk but not anymore. I hope Dad gives them a piece of his mind.

  If he saw me here with Brandon, I guess I’m not off the hook either.

  It’s no secret he and Mr. Locklear don’t get along, which is funny, considering he does business with one of them. But whatever. I don’t involve myself with my dad’s shit, and he leaves me alone too. Just the way I like it.

  Right here in Brandon’s arms is where I like to be.

  “It’s so warm, even this far away,” I say, holding up my hands toward the fire.

  “Mmhmm,” Brandon mumbles. “You won’t get cold tonight.”

  “Not with you here, steaming me up,” I muse, glancing up toward him.

  He smirks, but it can’t hide the redness on his face. “I can go grab a drink for you to cool off, if you want.”

  Oh, wow. What a reply. “Smooth …” I say.

  “Or I could cool you down … with kisses,” he says, and he wriggles his eyebrows and immediately dives in to pepper me with them.

  I shove him away playfully. “All right, Casanova. I get it. Go fetch me that drink, and then we’ll see.”

  He laughs and gets up from behind me, leaving me as he goes to the keg nearby. Suddenly, I notice Derek’s there too, stuffing his face with potato chips and beer. He stops as his eyes settle on Brandon. Fuck.