Somme Sketcher

“I have killed every man on this coast that has touched you inappropriately. From Max to my own fucking uncle. These kids are next, and if anybody besides me puts so much of a finger on you from now on, they’ll be killed too.”

Seek hope where the air is salty and the cliffs are steep.

“‘Cause the night you killed him, you called Sinners Anonymous.”

“The Angels of Devil’s Dip, back together again. Fuck man, this is all I’ve ever wanted.”

His groan is guttural, triggering hot, electric sparks between my thighs. I palm his chest and attempt to pull back, just to say something snarky, but I have just enough time to meet his molten gaze, before he fists my hair and brings me back into him.

His kiss is deep and wet and messy. Desperate. Like an arid desert in need of a good storm. His hands roam all over my body, stopping at my ass to grip my cheeks, snaking up to my hips to pull me against his erection. He’s rough and unrelenting, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even when he scrapes his teeth on my lower lip, smacks my ass, and hisses in my ear with strangled venom.

“You have ten seconds to get on my bed before I lose my shit.”

You got rid of my demons, I want to help you get rid of yours.”

While the locals called us the Angel’s of Devil’s Dip, they didn’t know that we were the judge, jury, and executioners of this town too, and throughout our teens we buzzed with our secret power.

. Life is all about balance, Angelo. The good always cancels out the bad.

Hold the fuck on. You’re shitting me, right? You take down a lackey at Big Al’s Sunday lunch, follow it up with some bullshit excuse about the Russians, and you’re not going to tell us why?”
I huff out a lungful of stale air and drag a knuckle through my beard. Truth is, I don’t know why the fuck I did it. And the reason I think I did it is utterly fucking insane.
Her.

. He’s still standing in front of the altar, arms crossed over his chest.
“Dad wasn’t the hero you thought he was,” I say quietly.
He stays silent, his jaw as hard as steel.
“And Mama?”
I pull my collar up, dig my hands into my pockets and get ready for the fall chill.
“Mama was a fucking saint, and don’t you ever forget it.”