BASTARD: A Stepbrother Romance (These Wicked Games Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

smile.
    She looks me up and down. “You’re barely wearing anything already. I wonder if you’d even notice.” In my mind, I see her lips as cracked and thin, her teeth black and rotten. But as that smile spreads, and her lips part to speak, they are plump and full, and her teeth are pearly white and straight. “I’m sure you’d get better tips.”
    “You can’t do that.” In my head, I’m shouting this, but my voice sounds weak.
    She raises an eyebrow—the same way Cade does, and it makes me hate her even more for having anything in common with him, for reminding me that he came from her—and says, “Oh? You’re in my house. If you want to move, that’s fine. But while you’re here…”
    I hate when she does that. Doesn’t finish her sentences, like it’s supposed to make her seem more intimidating, more sinister. Like I’m supposed to imagine all the terrible things she could mean. ‘You better do this, or else.’
    She looks at the knife in my hand. Then looks up to me. “Have something you want to say, dear?”
    I just stare at her.
    She turns back to her work. “Don’t forget to wash the knife.”
    She’s thin, weak. I can see her spine through her sweater. I could plunge the knife in, all the way to her black heart. End it all.
    I look down at my hand. The blade is a chef’s knife, one of those big ones that are squared off at the bottom, forming a sharp corner, before tapering down to the handle. This corner is digging into my knuckle, and a trickle of blood is running down my palm.
    I raise the knife above my head, ready to bring it down into her back.
    I remember how humiliated I was. How she told me if I was so proud of my body, then I shouldn’t cover it.
    My stomach sinks as I imagine what it will feel like as the knife enters her. My heart soars, and a surge of adrenaline rushes through me.
    I can do it. All I have to do is bear down with my weight, and it would all end.
    But I already know I won’t. It’s just a futile gesture. Shaking my fists at the sky. It doesn’t change anything. I can’t change anything.
    Maybe Cade could do it. But not me, not an ineffectual little fat girl like me.
    I throw the knife at the sink and run out. I hear it bounce out and hit the floor, but I don’t care. I just had to get out of there. Have to get out of here .
    I burst through the screen door, its squawk shorter this time but no less loud, run down the steps, across the yard, through the hole in the fence, past the group of trees, down the embankment, and into my hideaway, a cave with a floor made of a disused storm drain that we long ago covered with old carpet, and ceiling of roots that lets just enough light in.
    I curl up inside, bringing my knees to my chest.
    And then I cry.
    I hate myself for it. For being so weak. For letting her get to me.
    But my hate doesn’t stop the tears.
    It never does.

Chapter 9
    I hear footsteps, and my head shoots up, my eyes darting to the entrance.
    No, I’m such an idiot. She must have seen. Seen me come in here. Not even this, do I get to keep. After remaining a secret, remaining safe, for nine years, this hideaway Cade and I found on the first day we met, would be no more.
    Because now she knows about it. And it’s not safe.
    I find myself scuttling back toward the rear of the cave, like some frightened animal. Like prey. And she’s the predator. The apex predator. The one even other predators fear. My father included, though he’s more a coyote, or vulture, than a real predator.
    I stare at the opening, waiting to see her horrible, beautiful face. I’ll kick her. If she comes in, I’ll kick her.
    “Can I come in?”
    Confusion mixes in mind at the voice, and it takes me a moment to realize the other emotion I’m feeling is relief.
    It’s not Cynthia’s voice, but Cade’s. He’s still here. He didn’t leave.
    He stayed.
    “Cade?”
    He gets on his knees, on the dirt, and crawls in. “Did this get smaller?”
    I laugh, wiping tears from