Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 587

Simon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Dylan, is Clara happy these days?"

He still hadn't given up on Clara, and every time he said her name, there was something playful—and a little suggestive about it.

Dylan walked right past him without missing a beat.

Simon took a drag, then choked on the smoke, coughing before he could get his next words out. "You know, I brought up that prison on purpose at dinner. Every year, you go to Greenwood Cemetery, but I doubt you're there for Shelly. Are you hiding something from the rest of us?"

That stopped Dylan. He turned, looking over his shoulder at Simon, a half-smile playing at his lips-cold and unreadable.

Simon felt the shift immediately. Dylan's vibe turned dark-like a cold fog creeping up from the floor and settling around him.

Dylan reached out and plucked a leaf from a plant nearby. The sap stained his fingertips green.

"People who know too much," Dylan said quietly, "usually don't last long."

It was the first time Simon had ever been threatened so directly.

But the more Dylan acted like this, the more certain Simon became: the child had to be hidden there.

"Relax, Dylan. I'm sure I'll outlive you. And Clara-she'll be mine."

Dylan let out a low chuckle, tossing the leaf aside. "You know, my father doesn't care how many Fergusons back home die."

What was that supposed to

and final. "Your life isn't that

just a hint. "My wife's my responsibility. I know how to take care

else's sympathy. That much was

the word "wife"

slid into the car, his hands started shaking, his

palm and pressing a bottle

You need

popped three pills, and

worry obvious in his voice. "You've

side effects will only get

his other hand

Aiden floored it.

*

room, half-watching TV when

her head, glanced over, then went back to pretending

do and no phone, TV

whirr of wheels grew louder. She frowned, but didn't

just the two of them. Dylan got up from his wheelchair and, without asking, slid

is empty and you have to

words barely left

stretched out and laid his head in her lap-smooth and unhurried, like he'd done

"Dylan!"

getting