Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)

“Don’t say it.” I cracked open my beer, ignoring Clara’s amused expression. The cute female bartender she’d been flirting with had left to deal with the happy hour rush, and she’d been watching me with a knowing smile ever since.

“Fine. I won’t.” Clara crossed her legs and took a demure sip of her drink.

She was an ER nurse at Thayer University Hospital, where I was a third-year resident specializing in Emergency Medicine, so our paths crossed often. We’d been friends since my first year of residency, when we bonded over our mutual love for action sports and cheesy nineties movies, but she had as much sexual interest in me, or any member of the male species, as she did a rock.

Clara certainly wasn’t my date, at least not in the romantic sense, but I hadn’t corrected Jules’s assumption. My personal life wasn’t any of her business. Hell, sometimes I wished it wasn’t my business.

“Good.” I caught the eye of a pretty blonde at the other end of the bar and flashed a flirtatious smile. She returned it with a suggestive one of her own.

This was what I needed tonight. Alcohol, watching the Wizards game with Clara, and some harmless flirting. Anything to take my mind off the letter waiting for me at home.

Correction: letters. As in plural.

December 24. January 16. February 20. March 2. The dates of the most recent letters from Michael flashed through my mind.

I received one every month like clockwork, and I hated myself for not throwing them out the instant I saw them.

I took a long swig of my beer, trying to forget the stack of unopened mail sitting in my desk drawer. It was my second beer in less than ten minutes, but fuck it, I’d had a long day at work. I needed to take the edge off.

“I’ve always liked redheads,” Clara said, drawing me back to a conversation I didn’t want to have. “Maybe because The Little Mermaid was my favorite Disney movie growing up.”

Her face creased into a smile at my long-suffering sigh.

“Your lack of subtlety is astonishing.”

“I like to have at least one trait that’s astonishing.” Clara’s smile widened. “So, who was she?”

There was no use trying to sidestep her question. Once she sniffed out something she thought was juicy, she was worse than a Pitbull with a bone.

“My sister’s best friend and a pain in my ass.” Tension knotted my shoulders at the memory of my encounter with Jules.

It was just like her to be prickly even when I tried to help her. Forget an olive branch. I should hand her a bouquet of thorns and hope it pricked the fuck out of her.

Every time I tried to make nice—which, to be fair, wasn’t often—she reminded me of why we would never be friends. We were both too stubborn, our personalities too similar. It was like pitting fire against fire.

Unfortunately, Jules and my sister Ava had been thick as thieves since they roomed together their freshman year of college, which meant I was stuck with Jules in my life no matter how much we got on each other’s nerves.

I didn’t know what her issue with me was, but I knew she had a penchant for getting Ava into trouble.

In the seven years they’d known each other, I’d watched Ava trip out on Jules’s pot brownies and almost streak naked at a party, consoled her after she drunkenly dyed her hair semi-permanent orange at Jules’s twentieth birthday party, and rescued them from the side of a road in Bumfuck, Maryland after Jules had the brilliant idea to join some strangers they met at a bar on a last-minute road trip to New York. The car broke down on their way there and, luckily, the strangers turned out to be harmless, but still. It could’ve gone so very wrong.

Those were just some of the highlights. There were a thousand other instances when Jules had convinced my sister to go along with one harebrained scheme or another.

Ava was an adult and capable of making her own decisions, but she was also too damn trusting. As her older brother, it was my job to protect her, especially after our mom died and our father turned out to be a fucking psycho.

And there was no doubt in my mind that Jules was a bad influence. Period.

Clara’s mouth twitched. “Does the pain in your ass have a name?”

I took another swig of beer before answering with a curt, “Jules.”

“Hmm. Jules is very pretty.”

“Most flesh-eating succubi are. It’s how they rope you in.” Aggravation crept into my voice.

Yes, Jules was beautiful, but so were wolfsbane and blue-ringed octopi. Pretty exteriors hiding deadly poison which, in Jules’s case, came in the form of her viperous tongue.

Most men were blinded by all those curves and big hazel eyes, but not me. I knew better than to fall for her trap. The poor sods whose hearts she broke at Thayer were further proof I needed to stay far away from her for my personal sanity.

“I’ve never seen you so worked up over a woman.” Clara’s face was now a mask of delight. “Wait till I tell the other nurses.”

Oh, Jesus.

Gossip Girl had nothing on the nurses’ station. Once news reached their ears, it spread through the hospital like wildfire.

“I am not worked up, and there’s nothing to tell.” I switched the subject before she could press further. I had no desire to discuss Jules Ambrose a second longer than necessary. “If you want real news, here’s something: I finally decided where I’m going for vacation.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s nowhere near as interesting as your love life. Half the nurses are in love with you. I don’t get it.”

“It’s because I’m a catch.”

It wasn’t arrogance if it was true. I would never hook up with anyone at the hospital, though. I didn’t shit where I ate.

“Humble, too.” Clara finally gave up trying to pull more information about Jules out of me and went along with my obvious deflection. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where are you going for vacation?”

My grin was real this time. “New Zealand.”

I’d been torn between New Zealand for bungee jumping and South Africa for cage diving with sharks, but I finally decided on the former and bought my tickets last night.

Medical residents had crap schedules, but those of us in emergency medicine had it better than surgeons, for example. I worked a mix of eight and twelve-hour shifts with one mandated day off every six days and four stretches of five days off annually. The tradeoff was we worked nonstop during our shifts, but I didn’t mind. Busy was good. Busy kept my mind off other things.

I was, however, pumped for my first vacation this year. I’d been approved for a week off in the spring, and I could already picture my time in New Zealand: crisp blue skies, snow-capped mountains, the sensation of weightlessness as I free fell and the adrenaline rush that set my body alive whenever I indulged in one of my favorite adventure sports.

“Shut up.” Clara groaned. “I’m so jealous. Which hikes are you going to do?”

I’d done extensive research on the best hikes in the country, and I regaled her with my plans until the bartender returned and she got distracted. Since I didn’t want to cockblock—or pussyblock, in this case—I focused on my drink and the Wizards vs. Raptors basketball game on TV.

I was about to order another beer when a soft female voice interrupted me.

“Is this seat taken?”

I turned, taking in the cute blonde I’d made eye contact with earlier. I hadn’t noticed her leave her spot at the bar, but now she stood so close I could see the faint smattering of freckles across her nose.

Habit kicked in, and I flashed a lazy smile that caused the blonde to blush. “It’s all yours.”

The whole hookup song and dance was so familiar by now I barely had to try. Everything was muscle memory. Buy her a drink, ask her about herself, listen attentively—or appear to do so—with the occasional nod and appropriate interjection, brush my hand against hers to establish physical contact.

It used to be thrilling, but now I did it because…well, I wasn’t sure. Because it was what I’d always done, I guess.

“…want to be a vet…”

I nodded again, struggling not to yawn. What the hell was wrong with me?

Robin, the blonde, was hot and willing to take this somewhere private, if her hand on my upper thigh was any indication. Her childhood adventures in horseback riding weren’t exactly riveting, but I was usually good at finding at least one interesting tidbit in every conversation.

Maybe it was me. Boredom was my constant companion these days, and I didn’t know how to get rid of the bastard.

The parties I went to were the same old, same old. My hookups were unsatisfying. My dates were chores. The only time I felt anything was when I was in the ER.

I glanced at Clara. She was still flirting with the bartender, who was actively ignoring her customers and staring at Clara with an enamored expression.

“…can’t decide if I want a Pomeranian or Chihuahua…” Robin droned on.

“Pomeranians sound nice.” I made a show of checking my watch before saying, “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to pick up my cousin from the airport.” It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was the first one I could think of.

Robin’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Maybe we can meet up sometime.” She scribbled her number on a napkin and pushed it into my hand. “Call me.”

I responded with a noncommittal smile. I didn’t like promising things I couldn’t fulfill.

Have fun, I mouthed at Clara on my way out. She shook her head and gave me a small smirk before shifting her attention back to the bartender.

It was my quickest exit from a bar in a while. I wasn’t upset about how the night turned out. Clara and I often went drinking together and split when we got…distracted, but now I had to figure out where to go.

It was still early, and I didn’t want to return home yet. I also didn’t want to hit up one of the other bars lining the street in case Robin went bar hopping later.

Fuck it. I’ll finish watching the game at the dive spot near my house. Beer and TV were beer and TV, no matter where they were located. Hopefully, the metro was running on time so I wouldn’t miss the rest of the game.

I turned the corner onto the quiet street leading to the metro station. I made it halfway when I spotted a flash of red hair and a familiar purple coat in the alleyway next to an out-of-business shoe store.

My steps slowed. What the hell was Jules still doing here? She’d left a good twenty minutes before me.

Then I noticed the glint of metal in her hand. A gun—pointed straight at the scraggly, bearded man in front of her.

“What the fuck?” My words echoed in the empty street and bounced off the shuttered storefronts in disbelief.

Maybe I fell asleep at the bar and entered the Twilight Zone, because the scene in front of me didn’t make any fucking sense.

Where the hell did Jules get a gun?

Jules shifted positions so she could look at me without taking her eyes off the man. A threadbare beanie sat on top of his longish brown hair, and a black coat that was two sizes too big hung on his skinny frame.

“He tried to mug me,” she said matter-of-factly.

Beanie glared at her resentfully but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

I pinched my temple, hoping it would jolt me out of whatever alternate reality I’d stepped into. Nope. Still fucking here. “And I assume that’s his gun?”

I was somehow not surprised Jules had turned the tables on her would-be mugger. If she got kidnapped, the kidnapper would probably return her within the hour due to sheer irritation.

“Yes, Sherlock.” Jules’s hand tightened on the weapon. “I called the police. They’re on the way.”

As if on cue, the wail of sirens sliced through the air.

Beanie stiffened, his eyes darting around with wild panic.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jules warned. “Or I’ll shoot. I don’t bluff.”

“She’ll do it,” I told him. “One time I saw her nail a guy in the ass with a Smith & Wesson because he stole a bag of chips from her.” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. “She takes hangry to another level.”

The situation was already absurd enough. I might as well play into it.

Like I said, I was bored.

Jules’s mouth twitched at my fabrication before her face resettled into a stern frown.

Beanie’s eyes widened. “You serious?” His gaze ping-ponged between us. “How do you two know each other? You banging?”

Jules and I recoiled in unison.

Either Beanie asked such a stupid, out-of-place question to distract us, or he wanted to make me throw up. If it was the latter, he was close to succeeding. My stomach churned like a cement mixer on overdrive.

“I would never. Look at him.” Jules gestured at me with her free hand. “Like I would ever touch that.”

Beanie squinted at me. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I wouldn’t let you touch me if you offered to pay off all my med school loans,” I growled.

I didn’t care if Jules Ambrose was the last woman in the world. She was one person I’d never sleep with. Ever.

She ignored me. “You ever hear the saying, the bigger the ego, the smaller the penis?” she asked Beanie. “Applies to him.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Beanie glanced at me with sympathy. “Sorry, dude.”

A vein throbbed in my temple. I opened my mouth to inform her I would rather douse myself in bleach than allow her anywhere near my penis, but the slam of a car door interrupted me.

A cop the size of the Hulk got out with his gun drawn. “Freeze! Drop your weapon.”

I groaned and almost pinched my temple again before I caught myself.

For fuck’s sake.

I should’ve left when I had the chance.

Now, I was definitely going to miss the rest of the game.