Burn
small table by the window, cleaning the Desert Eagle.
    “What are you doing here?” she asks. She’s wearing some of the heaviest makeup I’ve ever seen. She’s got that smoky look thing going on with her eyes, which makes them pop like crazy.
    “Same thing you’ve been doing, I presume? Preparing for tomorrow night.”
    “You’re bringing the gun?”
    “Fuck yeah. And whatever else I can use to kill a man.”
    “Ahh, well, Julio better watch his silverware, then.”
    “The silverware’s safe. I can use my bare hands if things get that bad.”
    A flash of concern transforms Sloane’s face. “Are you expecting it to get that bad?”
    “No. Maybe.” I snap the action of the gun home. “Better to be safe than sorry. Did you see your sister?” This is a dangerous question. I can’t tell just by looking at her what’s gone down at the other house. I’m assuming if it had gone badly, she’d be bawling her eyes out, but with Sloane you never know. She’s not like any other girl I’ve had dealings with. She’s far more complex than any of them. Far more intelligent. And far more fucking confusing.
    Sloane comes and sits at the table opposite me; the cloud of perfume she brings with her is a little overbearing but not surprising in the least. Julio’s girls are heavy handed with everything—makeup, tans, tits, the whole nine yards.
    “She wasn’t there,” Sloane informs me. “She’s going to be back tomorrow afternoon, in time for the party.”
    “Oh.” That’s not great, but not terrible either. We can still make our plan work. Sloane looks troubled, though.
    “What’s up?”
    She runs her thumb across her lower lip, staring at me. I’m about to tell her she’s making me really fucking uncomfortable, when I realize no girl has ever made me feel fucking uncomfortable. I’m damned if I’m gonna admit something like that to her.
    “I’ve been thinking about something. And I don’t want you to get mad.”
    Well that is a fucking charming opening to a conversation. I sit back in the chair, putting the gun down on the table. She glances at it, and then takes a deep breath. “I want to know if you’re clean.”
    “Wha—if I’m clean ?”
    “Yeah.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Y’know. We’ve had a lot of unprotected sex, and I want to know that you’ve not given me some disgusting or life-threatening disease. You’ve slept with all these hookers and—”
    “Whoa, what the fuck?” I’m replaying the last words to come out of her mouth, trying to process them. “I’ve slept with all what hookers?”
    Small knots of muscle jump in her jaw as she clenches down. I’ve made her angry, but then so fucking what? She’s made me angry, too. Her eyes are blazing when she says, “I thought you were always honest with me. You can’t tell me you haven’t slept with a lot of women.”
    “I have slept with a lot of women, Sloane. But I’ve never fucked a hooker.” She lets out a snort that says she doesn’t believe me. “Sleeping with someone for money is not something that attracts me. At all. Everyone I’ve ever slept with has been more than willing. Yourself included.” I can feel my temperature rising, but I can see it happening to Sloane. Her cheeks have turned a bright red.
    “Oh, really? So I lost my virginity in a hotel room in the dark to a complete fucking stranger because I wanted to?”
    “You—” I bite back what I really want to say. Fuck! That night. That night’s gonna haunt us for fucking ever. “I’m not sorry for that, Sloane. I didn’t force you, and I didn’t pay you.”
    “No, but Eli was supposed to. He was supposed to tell me where my sister was, that was the payment, but then again you killed him before he could do it. So you’re right. I guess I didn’t get any sort of recompense for bleeding for you.”
    She jumps up from the table, physically shaking with rage. I follow after her, taking hold of her arm. She spins and slaps me;

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