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I let her in, and she follows the sound of voices to the living room where the guys have moved.
“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite gang members,” she says brightly, greeting the men when we walk in.
They’re sprawled across the furniture carelessly, flipping through the channels on the TV. She’s only met them a couple of times, but that doesn’t stop her from talking to them like she knows them well. She knows more about them than they know about her, just from hearing me bitch about them so much, probably.
Scarlett gives a low whistle as she glances around the living room, and I remember she’s never been at the house before. I’ve described it to her a little, but I’m not sure I did it justice.
“Damn.” She shakes her head. “You know, Mercy, when you told me you got kidnapped by Black Rose members, I didn’t think that meant you were living in the lap of luxury. This place is fucking huge.”
“Kidnapped is a strong word,” Rory chimes in, flashing his crookedly charming smile at Scarlett.
She doesn’t blush, but it’s a close thing, and I can see her eyeing all three of them up as they lounge comfortably. They’re sexy as fuck, and we both know it. Hopefully she won’t start going on about it right here in front of them.
“You literally grabbed me and put me in a car against my will,” I argue. “That’s like the textbook definition of kidnapping.”
Levi snorts and shakes his head. “We don’t treat you badly though.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“I sort of pictured them keeping you in a basement somewhere,” Scarlett says. “Or like one of those houses that looks like a crack den from the outside. I definitely didn’t think it would be like this.”
I roll my eyes. We’ve talked and texted enough times that she knew I wasn’t being kept in a basement. If I were, she probably would’ve stormed this place weeks ago, determined to bust me out no matter what happened.
But she has a point. Their obnoxious attitudes and hard-to-resist faces aside, the guys have treated me pretty well. I eat well, have my own room and bathroom, and they don’t ask me to cook and clean or anything. Unless they’re in shitty moods, they mostly leave me to my own devices these days.
It’s something to be grateful for, but I fee
l weird about trusting it. My dad is still out there, doing whatever dirty work they pushed on him, and I’m here, sometimes eating crepes on Sunday mornings when Rory’s feeling fancy.
It’s weird.
Scarlett isn’t intimidated by any of the guys, which makes me love her even more than I already do. Sloan is standoffish and curt when he deigns to speak at all, but she doesn’t bat an eyelash, continuing on with whatever she’s saying.
It’s more comfortable than I would have expected it to be.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Levi says, looking away from the TV. “We’re not that bad.”
Scarlett hums, tapping a finger against her lips. “Maybe, but the last time I saw you guys, you were carting Mercy out of the bar in some macho, alpha male display of power, so I’m not sure that counts as being good either.”
Sloan makes a face. “There was nothing ‘macho’ about it,” he mutters. “It was necessary.”
I just roll my eyes and refuse to get into that with him. I’m still pretending most of that night never happened. “We’re going out,” I say, making the decision on the spot. “I need some air.”
“Fine,” Sloan replies, waving a hand. “Go.”
Neither of the other two argue, and Rory waggles his fingers in a little wave as I go to get my shoes on and grab my purse, Scarlett hot on my heels.
I haven’t been out without them in so long that it feels weird to leave the house without one or all of them shadowing me, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I get in Scarlett’s car, leaning back and closing my eyes as she pulls out of the driveway.
“So where do you want to go with this newfound freedom?” she asks, glancing over at me.
“I don’t know, anywhere. Let’s get coffee.”
Scarlett nods, and we head for the little coffee shop not far from campus where we used to hang out all the time before everything went to hell. She parks, and we get out. As we walk into the small shop, I’m immediately comforted by the smell of roasted coffee beans and the familiar sound of people chattering as they sit with their drinks.
It’s been too long since I was able to just be out without having to worry about the guys breathing down my neck, and I order a large iced coffee and go to snag us a table near the front windows.
“Okay. Talk to me,” Scarlett says, plonking down into the seat opposite mine when she has her drink as well. “What’s been going on?”
