Simmering Love (Slow Burn Book 3)

by Jacie Lennon

  Is it too late to get a new identity and flee the country? Where did Mark even find these guys in Tennessee? This is some Chicago shit. Las Vegas shit.

  I throw my head back and groan again.

  It just gets better and better.

  Now, I have to decide what to do.

  Do I call the police even if they told me not to? Do I tell Pepper what’s going on?

  My first instinct is to tell her and get her input, but the goon holding the picture flashes through my mind. Maybe it’s better if I try to protect her, and then all of this will blow over.

  I shouldn’t tell Pepper. I can’t put that stress on her. Shit.

  She probably won’t even want to be in a relationship with me after all this goes down.

  Who wants to date someone who gets visited by gun-toting henchmen? It looks good in the movies, but in real life, not so much. I’m pretty sure she values her life.

  I shudder as I glance over at the picture frame Guy Number One was holding. No, I can’t tell Pepper. I’ve got to get her out of here. And I know her. If I tell her and then try to get her to leave, she won’t. She’s too stubborn. She stubbornly held out for me.

  You know what they say. If you love someone, let them go.

  I guess they were talking to me.

  27

  Pepper

  I climb into my car, exhausted and ready to get home and cuddle with Ben. It’s the highlight of my days now, getting to see him every time I come home. The sex has slowed down. We have only done it once or twice more since then. It’s hard to find different ways that don’t bother his ankle.

  That’s not to say we don’t both get off. No, we’re perfecting the art of third base almost every single night.

  I shoot a quick text to Ben, asking if Chinese food sounds good tonight, but I don’t get an immediate reply.

  I decide to go get it anyway and just show up. Who doesn’t like surprise food? I thank my lucky stars that I don’t have to work tonight, planning on crashing right after dinner. No fun Friday night out for this girl. But definitely a fun Friday night in.

  Is this what getting older looks like?

  After grabbing the food, I head home, pulling into my regular parking spot. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I reach one hand up to touch it while I glance around the mostly empty lot. It almost feels like I’m being watched, but that’s silly. There are a few cars parked nearby, but they are regularly here, probably belonging to people who live in some of the adjacent apartments. I shiver and walk quickly to the door, unlocking it with a shaky hand, almost dropping my keys. I don’t know what has gotten into me.

  Jeez, get it together, Pepper.

  I don’t begin to calm down until I’m on the other side, dead bolt in position, and then I breathe a sigh of relief. I jump again when I look over and see Ben sitting on one end of the couch, leg propped up on the table, eyes fastened on the TV that isn’t turned on.

  “God, don’t scare me like that,” I say, out of breath with my hand on my chest.

  He still doesn’t look at me, and my heart continues to race.

  “What are you doing? Why are you sitting here in the dark?” I flip a light on, and he flinches. “Ben?” I round the table and stand in front of him, dropping the food on the surface beside his propped-up foot.

  I sink in the chair next to the couch, and he finally looks at me.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “I, uh …” he starts and clears his throat. Just staring at me.

  “Is everything okay?” I reach and lay my hand on his knee, squeezing a little.

  “I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

  My stomach drops, the sinking feeling spreading through my body, making my arms and legs numb.

  “You don’t think we should be together anymore?” I place my hands in my lap, making fists and then uncurling them. My palms burn where my fingernails have made indentions in my skin.

  “No, this is moving too fast for me.”

  “Too fast for you?” I sound like a parrot, repeating everything he says.

  At this, he glances away. I couldn’t tell if it was regret or relief that flashed in his eyes before he averted them.

  “Did I do something? I mean … I know it’s a little backward that we’re living together already, but that can’t be helped. We were roommates first.”

  I stop, and his eyes fasten on mine.

  “No, that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then, what do you mean? This is out of left field, and I don’t understand what brought it on.” I rise from the chair and sit on the couch next to him, trying to get closer, trying to figure him out.

  “Pepper, I don’t want to see you anymore.” He brings one hand up, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before letting his hand drop back to his lap.

  “Did I come on too strong? I can leave you alone for a while. I’ll go back to my bed—”

  “God, Pepper. Read my lips. I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he growls out, frustration evident in his face.

  My eyes fill with tears, which I struggle to blink away.

  You will not cry in front of him. You will not cry in front of him. I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “Right.” I nod, looking around as I shuffle my purse back on my shoulder. I stand abruptly, turning to walk to my room.

  I pause and let a single tear roll down my cheek before shifting back around and looking him square in the face.

  “Fuck you, Ben,” I whisper before walking to my room and shutting the door with an almost-silent click.

  I let my purse drop off my shoulder, the thud echoing the one in my chest as my heart cracks down the middle. I run a finger under both eyes, gathering the wetness that wants to streak down my face and wiping it on my pants. A vain effort since new tears take their place.

  Like a zombie, I walk to my bed, sinking into the plush comforter I haven’t slept under in weeks. I run my hand back and forth, the soft fibers sending a bolt of comfort up my arm, lulling me into a resigned state.

  If he wants me to leave, I’ll leave.

  I start to move, walking with purpose to my closet, and throw open the doors. Retrieving my bag stashed at the back, I open it, throwing it on my bed, and I begin to throw clothes in it. I’m a tornado, flinging drawers open, pulling garments out. They land in the bag in a heap, in chaos, no order. Just like my emotions. I tug a few shoes from the rack, setting them beside the clothes, and grab my makeup bag and perfume from the dresser. Once I have sufficiently packed enough to stay somewhere else, I pull open my door, hold my head high, and stalk through the apartment to the front door.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, pleading with him to tell me what is going on before I open the door and walk out.

  “I just need you out of here,” he says, fisting his shorts in his hands.

  I take him in—the tense posture, the way he won’t fully look at me—and I feel like something is off.

  “I don’t think that’s it, Ben. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  “I’m doing what is best for you,” he says, not making eye contact.

  “Don’t you think that’s for me to say?”

  “Sometimes, we don’t always get a say.”

  I nod my head, studying him behind the tears in my eyes.

  “That’s true. I’m not getting a say here; you are deciding for me. Don’t be a dick, Ben. Don’t do this to us. Something happened to make you decide this. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

  Ben doesn’t say anything, and I can only stand there for so long in silence. He doesn’t try to stop me as I walk out the door. I guess this is the good-bye I get. After everything I’ve done for him since he came home from the hospital, this is how he wants to break up with me.

  I struggle to get my heavy bag in the car, tears blurring my vision, and I freeze when I feel that prickling sensation again.

  Is someo
ne watching me?

  I get in the car and shut the door, locking it behind me before I look around, still not seeing anyone. I sigh, letting my head drop to the top of the steering wheel. I pull out my phone and hold it under my face, so I can see who I’m calling. I bring up Mason’s name.

  “Hello?” he answers after the first ring.

  I open my mouth, but only a sob comes out.

  “Pepper?” His tone changes from cheery to concerned.

  “Hey … it’s me.” I sniff and try to control the urge to sob again.

  “What’s going on?” I hear him shuffle before a door shuts.

  “Are you home right now?”

  “Yeah, we’re here. Do you need me to come get you?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m headed to your house.”

  “Okay, Pep. Be careful.”

  “Love you, cuz,” I say and hang up.

  Throwing my phone on the seat, I glance back at the apartment, where a flicker in one of the windows catches my attention before I convince myself it was just a shadow. Ben doesn’t care, or he wouldn’t have done this.

  Breakups suck.

  I pull into Mason’s driveway, and the front door flies open. My heart warms, knowing that he was watching for me. He stalks to the car and is standing beside my door before I can even open it. He takes one look at my tear-streaked face and flings the door open, pulling me out of the seat and into a hug. I wrap my arms around him, hiccuping.

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?” I ask, playing dumb.

  “Fuckin’ Ben. He did this. I know it.”

  I don’t answer him, and he growls.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.” I pull back, looking at him before walking to my trunk and opening it.

  Mason pulls my bag out and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  “I’ll kill him,” he promises.

  I grin through my tears. “I’ll let you.”

  I wrap my arm around his middle, and we walk to the front door.

  Ben

  I sit, frozen on the couch, as the front door slams behind Pepper. I ache to jump up and run after her, but I can’t. Not just because of my ankle, but also because I have to keep her safe. She can’t be here in case those guys come back. Who knows what they might try? Men like that aren’t law-abiding citizens. They have no respect for anything other than their leader. It showed in how one of them used Pepper against me.

  Yeah, I’m a dick for what I did, but I can only hope that Pepper won’t hate me after all of this once I explain. I should have let her decide for herself, but I’m being selfish, not wanting to worry about her as well as Mark during all of this.

  Part of me wants to call the department, let them know I heard from Mark. I’m just scared that contacting authorities will end up with him dead, and I don’t want that on my conscience. If I can just get the money, I’m going to talk some sense into Mark and try to convince him to get help.

  When this is all said and done, I might just have to kill Mark myself. He’s a shithead.

  Now that phase one of my awful master plan has been initiated, it’s time for phase two, which is named I Have No Fuckin’ Clue Where I’m Going to Get Thirty Grand in a Week.

  Fuck. My. Life.

  28

  Pepper

  “I hate him,” I hear Mason say loudly. “All she does is fuckin’ sit in her room and cry when she’s not at school or work. Hell, she probably cries the whole time there too.”

  I do not.

  “Shh. She will hear you.” Jules’s voice is softer, but it’s too late. I can hear every word.

  “I don’t care. I’m going to punch his fuckin’ ugly face the next time I see him. He’d better thank his dumbass self that he’s on medical leave right now,” Mason growls, and I hear footsteps as he walks back and forth, his voice getting louder as he gets closer to my room and then fainter as he walks away.

  “No one is punching anyone. It’s a breakup. It sucks, but Pepper will be okay, and she doesn’t need you ranting and raving like a lunatic.”

  I smile at the image her words produce in my mind.

  I push my door open. The soft creak alerts Mason and Jules that I’m on the move, and they go quiet.

  “It’s okay. I can hear you. Talk as much as you want,” I say, walking into the kitchen where they stand.

  “I told you,” Jules hisses to Mason, and he shrugs, not looking apologetic in the least. “How are you, Pepper?” Jules asks.

  “I’ve been better. But I’ve moved from shock into anger. I think I’ll stay in this stage of grief for a while.” I pull open the fridge and hunt around for my leftover sandwich from yesterday.

  “Good. Anger. I like it.” Mason grins at me, and I can’t help but return it. “Want to key his truck? Put sugar in his gas tank? Slash three of his tires?”

  “Why does all your retribution center around his truck?” I cock my hip against the counter as I open the baggie containing my food.

  “Do you not know us men at all? Our love for our vehicles eclipses all else.” He catches the frown on Jules’s face. “Except for you and Ginny, of course. Number one in my life.”

  He plants a kiss on her forehead, and I make a gagging face.

  “Get a room,” I say, taking a bite.

  “Speaking of rooms, what are we going to do about your living situation?”

  I groan as I sink into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “I don’t know. Can I live here indefinitely?” I say, with a laugh. “Just kidding. Don’t want to cramp your style.”

  “You can stay if you need to,” Mason says.

  “I’ve already been searching for some apartments. Going to look at one tomorrow after school.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Jules looks up from feeding baby Ginny.

  “If you want to. I wouldn’t mind the company,” I say with a smile.

  I’m thankful for my family for being so generous to take me in for a while. I haven’t told my parents I’m homeless at the moment.

  “Are you eating a sandwich for breakfast?” Mason raises one eyebrow and turns his mouth up in a disgusted look.

  “Yep.” I give a nod. “It’s never too early for a sandwich or too late for breakfast,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk down the hall to get ready for school.

  Whether I have a broken heart or not, the world continues moving, and I have to move right along with it. Tears and loathing will have to wait.

  I take the world’s quickest shower and get ready. Putting my bag on my shoulder, I run out of the house, knowing I’m going to have to break the sound barrier to make it to class on time. Pulling into the parking lot at school, I get out of my car, lean in to grab my bag, and then emit a high-pitched screech as soon as I turn around and see two men standing close to me. Way too close to me.

  “Pepper Stratten?”

  “Yes?” I shrink back against the car and try to silently dig in my bag for my mace.

  “You’re even prettier in person,” one of the guys says, a large grin taking over his face.

  I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose when I see his teeth.

  Has he ever heard of a toothbrush?

  “Shut up,” the other guy says, glaring at him.

  “How do you know me?” I finally find my voice and try to stand a little taller. They say you should always make direct eye contact and try to appear confident when you feel threatened. Though it is broad daylight, so I don’t think these guys have any fear of being found out.

  “We don’t. But we know your boyfriend, Ben.”

  Ben?

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Funny, he said the same thing about you.”

  That cuts deep, knowing that he is already moving on. But those thoughts will have to wait because I have two ginormous men standing threateningly in front of me, and I have no idea why.

  “He said I’m not his boyfriend?” I fire back.

  Guy Number One chuckles. “Thing is, we don�
�t believe him. Or you,” he says, pointing a grimy hand at me, and I try to inch back further. “Tell him he has two more days”—he looks me up and down—“or else.”

  My stomach flips over at his meaning.

  Or else what? You’ll kill him? You’ll kill me? You’ll kill both of us?

  I fight the urge to laugh at how my thoughts are running away with me. No one said anything about killing anybody.

  “Wait. Two more days for what?” I ask.

  The second guy raises his eyebrows. “He’s keeping secrets, is he? Two more days for the thirty grand he owes us. His week is almost up.”

  At that, the two guys walk back to their shiny black vehicle and get inside while I stare after them, a sweaty mess and my mouth hanging open. I pull my phone out and check the time.

  Late. Late. Late.

  I email the teacher and tell him I’m out sick, and I climb back in my car, frozen in my seat as my heart continues to pound through my rib cage. I can’t do anything but replay the scene that just happened over and over in my mind.

  But what just happened? I put my seatbelt on while I think.

  Ben owes someone money. Those two guys weren’t playing around. And they acted like they knew me, knew that I was somehow connected to Ben.

  I pick my phone up from my lap and pull up the last text conversation between me and Andi to send another text.

  Pepper: Out sick today. Let me know what we go over.

  Andi: Oh no. Boo. Feel better. *kissy emoji*

  I numbly reach for the ignition, successfully sticking my key in on the third try, and start my car.

  Why wouldn’t Ben have told me this?

  Why would Ben tell you this, you idiot? You aren’t together anymore.

  Wait one minute.

  The henchman’s words come rushing back to me. “His week is almost up.”

  It hasn’t been a week since I left the apartment, so this had to have happened around the time he broke up with me. I want to jump at my super-sleuthing skills, but I remember I’m sitting in my car with my seat belt on, so I pump my fist instead.