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“Good,” I Jerk my head. “Let me know when you’ve dealt with dealers fucking around our territory too. Let Kai loose to make a statement.”
“On it.” He rubs his hands together, then looks to Gracie. “Meet me in my room. I have an assignment for you.”
Her eyes go wide as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “What is it?”
“It’s in his pants,” Joe snorts, shaking his head.
“I’m not here for you to pick up and put down whenever you get a tingle in your winkle.” She scowls, her hand on her hip, attitude for days. I miss that fire. Drew had that fire. A redhead, Amy, spits her drink all over Halo’s chest as he approaches, her eyes dropping to Rage’s junk.
“Bitch, what the fuck?” Halo howls, wiping his shirt down.
“Winkle?” Rage growls. “You can’t call the monster a winkle.”
Monster?
Fuck this. I’m out.
Sixteen
Drew
Twenty-six years old
A couple weeks later…
Aunt Maureen was a horrible witch, but even witches deserve better than what she got. Raped and murdered in her own bed. I want to believe there’s no way the Royal Bastards had anything to do with this—it’s not their style—but can it be a coincidence that my dad was murdered and now this shit?
There are all of five people at her wake. Two are her neighbors, me, my friend, and her distant sister I didn’t even know existed. She only came because she said the house was left to her in the will. My aunt wouldn’t write a will, and her termite-infested home would cost more to renovate than it’s worth. The chick is welcome to it. “You look tense.” Remy rubs his hand over my shoulders.
Tense is an understatement. I haven’t been in this town since the night my father’s body was dumped like trash on my aunt’s front lawn—yet another reason this woman is welcome to the house. A stabbing pain throbs in my chest thinking about him and the aftermath of his murder. Alec’s guilty expression seared into my brain, eating away all the good memories we shared.
“Babe, you okay?” Remy asks, making my muscles turn rigid.
“I told you not to call me that.” I push his hand off my shoulder and go to the bar. I need to get out of this place. I’m not afraid like I used to be to come here. Kai telling me about Viking’s death lifted a weight off my shoulders. I know Alec had to struggle with his passing, but why should I care how he feels? He took my dad from me, knowing he was the only family I had. It’s been years, and my mind and heart are still at war over my love and hate for that man.
“Hit me,” I tell the bartender, holding up my shot glass. I down the amber liquor he pours in my glass and exhale hard.
I was a dick to Remy. He dropped everything to drive me down here, and the anxiety and old memories are making me act like a bitch. He doesn’t deserve that. We aren’t a real couple. We fooled around a little with the unspoken promise of maybe more. I haven’t been ready for more with anyone. Touch…taste, intimacy—nothing heals what’s broken inside me. Nothing compares to Alec, and it makes the act pointless, painful, and unsatisfying.
Remy’s a Demon nomad, a biker club that isn’t far from Little Rock. Purely coincidental I met him. There’s something about his demeanor, though—his bike, cut—that’s all too familiar to my soul. Despite running from it, wanting to be away from the club life, my soul longed for it. But Remy wanted more than I was willing to give. Bringing him here was a mistake, but I didn’t want to do it on my own. I’m a coward. Dammit, there’s not enough alcohol in the world to settle my nerves.
This place has always been like a magnet, drawing me in. Fuck that, it’s not this place, it’s the man in it. Brains are funny things. They try to rationalize, they lie to you when you’re in a state of despair to try to heal you, but how can I forgive what Alec did? How is there anything he could say or do that will ever make killing my dad okay?
Disgust cloaks me in shame, for wishing there was something—anything that could erase that part of our past so I could be in his arms. What a mess of a woman I am, pining over my dad’s killer. He’s probably married by now, got an ol’ lady popping out his kids. A sharp pain sparks in my chest. No, no, no, I can’t think about that.
“Everything all right?” the bartender asks, and I realize I’m holding my hand to my heart, a harsh grimace on my face.
“Yeah, fine. Give me a round for the table.” I slip off the bar stool and go back to the others. The bartender places drinks down for everyone a couple minutes later. “A peace offering.” I try to smile, and drop a peck to Remy’s cheek.
