It takes a moment for him to recover from the surprise, but when he does, he snaps, “Where the fuck have you been, huh? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you’ve made me look trying to cover up your little tantrum? And for what, so you could whore around before finally seeing that no one actually wants you for more than a quick fuck? Glad someone finally managed to knock some sense into you, now get your ass in here before someone-“ He cuts off as he sticks his head into the hall, spotting me only a few feet from the door now.
Leaving the recording feature running, I pocket my phone. “No offense, but you make yourself look plenty ridiculous on your own.”
He straightens up to his full height, the buzzed, red hair and tight fitting t-shirt making him look like a washed up frat boy. The hard glint in his dark brown eyes only solidifies that Risa was absolutely right and we underestimated her. By playing along and keeping the peace rather than stand up for herself and push back, she managed to keep things from escalating, because this man absolutely would have killed her sooner or later.
That cold look in his eyes? I recognize it well. It’s the same selfish, hateful glare that looked back at me when I finally caught up to my sire and took his head.
“And you are?” he snipes, tongue in cheek like he’s already expecting the answer.
A cruel, taunting smile takes over my face as I come to stand beside Risa. “Here to make sure Risa gets her things without issue. We agreed they’d look much better at my place than yours.”
Blake’s hand tightens on the doorframe, but I keep my muscles loose, pissing him off as I remain unfazed at his pitiful attempts at intimidation despite the fact he’s got several inches and at least fifty pounds on me. It serves a dual purpose of annoying him, and meaning I can react that much faster to pull Risa out of the way if he attempts something.
“Look here, asshole, I don’t know who you think you are,” he starts, but Risa cuts him off.
“Mason, Blake. Blake, meet Mason; my husband. I’m not here to start anything, I just want to get my stuff and we’ll be out of your hair.”
His neck and cheeks mottle with red splotches as his anger reaches a boiling point. “Listen here, you little bitch,” he spits, jabbing a finger in her direction that has me taking a step in front of her, tucking her partially behind my back.
“There a problem here?” Ryker asks coolly, strolling into view with the others.
In a blink, Blake morphs into a completely different person. All forms of hostility are buried by a level of casual neutrality that would give politicians a run for their money. His body loosens up, his face blanking before tilting his head respectfully towards Ryker. “Afternoon, officer. No problem, just a simple misunderstanding.”
Thatcher raises a humorless eyebrow. “What sort of misunderstanding, if I may ask?”
Blake tsk. “I was afraid something terrible had happened to my girlfriend, but turns out that concern was ill placed.”
“Mmm,” Thatcher replies. “Shame, that.”
Bane and Stryker’s faces are murderous, boring holes into Blake’s face from their position behind the police. Ryker feigns checking his phone. “We were just heading out, but we have a bit before we need to report back to the station.” He looks up at Blake before hitching a thumb at me. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume your girl ran off with this guy?” At Blake’s pursed lips and silence, Ryker nods to himself. “It’ll be less painful if we all pitch in and get this knocked out as quickly as possible then, don’t you think?”
Plastering a fake smile on his face, Blake steps back to clear the doorway. “Really, you don’t need to go through the effort, officers. I’m sure you have far more important things to do than help some chick pack up her stuff.”
“Eh, not really. Slow day,” Thatcher quips, failing to veil the disdain in his voice as he strides into the apartment.
“And you two are?” Blake asks, voice hard as he narrows his eyes on the men that look too much like me to claim coincidence in the given circumstance.
Stryker wisely keeps his mouth shut. The sheer loathing radiating off of him is answer enough, anyway, and seeing as we want the cops to remain on our side, silence seems the best choice until he can compose himself. Bane, on the other hand, is a master at stuffing down his feelings and acting the responsible adult.
“Mason’s brothers.” He claps me on the shoulder as he passes by, entering the apartment. “Sorry we’re a little late; traffic. Ran into these guys on the way up and figured it couldn’t hurt to ask them to stick around a few extra minutes to make sure everything was good.”
“Appreciate it, man.”
Blake snorts. “This is ridiculously unnecessary.” Stryker, Thatcher, and Ryker head off into the rest of the apartment without preamble, a fact that has Blake fuming, but trying to bite his tongue to save face. Only when the cops are out of ear shot does he hiss at Risa, “Two guesses how you managed to get five guys jumping at the chance to haul your shit out of here. Tell me, were you fucking all of them before you decided to run off, or did you wait until the next day to whore yourself out to the cops, too?”
“Watch your mouth.”
He looks at me with a sneer marring his pretentious face. “Or what? You bringing the cops with you ties your hands as much as mine.”
“So which is it?” Risa asks, grabbing a duffel bag from the closet. “Have I seduced those two cops onto my side, or not? Don’t you think if I was sleeping with them, they’d be willing to overlook a few things?”
She doesn’t wait for a response before striding down the hallway, leaving Bane and I alone with Blake. Glancing around the living room, there isn’t a single thing that looks like it belongs to Risa. Honestly, from her stories alone, I’d imagine she doesn’t have much more than some clothes, but those are easily replaced. There has to be something here that she wasn’t willing to leave behind, and I’d bet my left nut it’s something she kept hidden, or this jackass would be looking much more smug than he currently is.
Grinning at her retreating form, I cross my arms, leaning against the back of the couch. Bane takes up a post on the opposite side of the room, putting himself between Blake and the hallway the others went down. Well aware that we need to be careful with our words for the sake of the recording, I mull over the best way to antagonize the jackass, only to come to the conclusion that silence is the best choice. Some people simply love to hear themselves talk, and even better, get riled up when they don’t get any reaction from the people they’re trying to instigate.
It takes all of thirty seconds before he’s marching towards the kitchen, tossing his phone on the counter and grabbing a beer, popping it open before leaning against the archway. “I take it you’ve got money?” I don’t respond, and he smirks like he hit the nail on the head on the first try. “Only place you could have run into her was the club. You think some bitch working in a place like that wouldn’t jump at the first guy to flash enough money her way?” Snorting, he takes another drink. “Give it a month or two and she’ll move on to the next target, taking half of your shit with her when she does. Why do you think I never married her no matter how much she begged?”
Bane’s face darkens, and I shoot him a warning look before shrugging a single shoulder. “Not sure what you’re so worked up about. Sounds like you should be relieved you won’t have to worry about her anymore. Not your problem, and finally out of your life for good.”
