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22
Pen
“Thanks for dropping me back, Beast,” I say, leaning my head against the headrest as Beast drives me home to the Academy. My muscles are aching from the rehearsal, but in a good way. The girls were amazing, and we’ve got the routine down.
“Grim told me your boys are at Rocks tonight with that prick, Jeb.”
“Yep. He’s got them there onbusiness,” I reply, finger quoting the air. “I fucking hate him so much.”
“Yeah, I bet. He’s always been a prick. The little cocksucker needs to be put down, but now ain’t the time apparently.”
I nod my head, glancing over at Beast who is gritting his jaw and looking a little less cocksure than normal. “Everything alright?” I ask him.
He glances over at me, giving me a wink that is as fake as his smile. “Yep, fine and fucking dandy.”
“You sure about that?”
“Actually, I could use a drink. Fancy a quick detour?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, the guys…”
“Pen, not being funny, but you’re your own person, right? I’m your friend. I’ve also made myself perfectly clear to your Breakers that I only have eyes formymissus. Frankly, she’s all I can manage.” He grins then, winking at me.
“Yeah, but how would Grim feel about you grabbing a drink with me? I really like and respect Grim. I donotwant to piss her off.”
“I may act like an idiot sometimes, but I ain’t stupid. I already said I was gonna grab a drink with you. Grim’s cool with it.”
“She is?” Something in my voice must sound uncertain because Beast chuckles.
“Yep, she is. Grim is normally pretty fucking possessive, but the fact that she’s okay with us being friends says a lot about you. She trusts you,likesyou. That doesn't happen very often.”
“I like her too.”
“Besides, Grim has been best friends with a rich, good looking, millionaire for years now. She often goes out for drinks with Hud and I don’t bat an eye—”
“Woah, I’m not being used as some kind of pawn in your tit-for-tat game!” I exclaim, raising my eyebrows at him.
“Chill, Pen. I’m not a man who plays games. Truth is, I needed an excuse to visit this pub tonight…”
His voice trails off and I give him a quizzical look. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I hope. Just crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s.”
“Should I be worrying?”
“Nope. Got it all in hand.”
“Gotwhatin hand?”
Beast glances at me and rolls his eyes like I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but I’m not an idiot, I can see how tightly he grasps the steering wheel. Something’s up.
“Beast?”
“There’s been some whispers about The Masks. I wanted to check in on some acquaintances, see what they’ve heard. They’re in town tonight.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t fret it, sweetheart,” Beast says, indicating left before he takes the turn. Two minutes later, he pulls up outside a small Irish pub just off Hackney's main high street. I raise a brow at the dirty looking pub. “I know the owners. The O’Briens and I go way back.”
