As their bikes rumble to life and drive away in a cloud of dust, I let out a shaky breath. That could have ended badly if Rowan had said one more wrong word.
But he doesn’t look relieved as he turns me around with a firm grip on my shoulders. If anything, he looks pissed.
“C’mon,” he growls. “We’re going to go inside, and unlike last night, you’re going to give me an explanation.”
CHAPTER 21
NERO
Iron Raptors.
That’s what was written on the back of those vests. I’ve heard of them—a gang from the Midwest—but our paths haven’t crossed before.
Would have been great to keep it that way.
Rafe’s last instructions to me were clear—find a place with no organized crime. That’s why Sandro and I had stayed out of big cities, but apparently, those leather-clad roaches had made it out to the middle of nowhere.
The good thing is that they don’t know me, which means they didn’t recognize me as someone who shouldn’t be alive.
But it’s not me I’m concerned about at the moment. It’s Blake.
“What were those guys doing here?”
She brushes past me, heading back toward the house. “Let’s talk inside.”
I follow after her, on edge. What would have happened if I didn’t come back when I did? She looked tense and afraid, just like last night. What do they want from her? Does she owe them money?
It doesn’t make any sense. She’s a bartender who works at a local tavern and spends her evenings with her nose buried in a book. I can’t imagine what business they could possibly have in common.
I shut the front door behind me and grab her by the arm. “Blake, look at me.”
Her face is pale and guilt-ridden in the late afternoon light streaming through the window, like she’s done something wrong.
And yeah, she fucking did.
“What were you thinking putting yourself in front of me like that?”
She leans against one of the walls in the foyer. “I was afraid he’d pull a gun on you. He’s erratic, and he’s got a short temper.”
“So you thought it would be better for him to pull a gun on you instead?” I demand. God, I want to shake her for being so reckless.
“Ye—“
I grab her chin. “No. The answer is no. Never and under no circumstances. I won’t have you put yourself in danger to protect me.”
She jerks her face out of my grip, angry tears glistening inside her eyes. “God, Rowan! Don’t you see? It’s me who broughtdanger to your doorstep! That man out there—Lyle—is my godfather.”
My brows furrow. Whatever I was expecting she might say, it wasn’t that.
She makes a frustrated noise and flees down the hallway to the living room.
I move after her. “Your godfather? How did that happen?”
She sinks onto the couch and grips the edge of it with her hands. “My dad was a rider too.” Her words come out like a confession. They're loaded with regret and resignation.
It takes me a moment to process.
Blake, with her quiet demeanor and bookish habits, had grown up surrounded by a world of violence and crime. A world not so different from my own.
