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Silas frowns at his president before glancing back at another man from earlier. This one wears the face of someone uninterested in engaging in chitchat.
“Got everything on the list,” Silas says, very deliberately standing between the men and me. “Even found the three dollars you had stashed in your bra drawer.”
Standing up and looking through the bag he hands me, I frown. “Couldn’t find the sex tape, huh?”
Silas’s horrified expression sends me into giggles. He reminds me of Beau when someone explains too much to him too fast.
Brooklyn decides I’m hilarious and also laughs. Silas glances at her in a weird way. That’s when I realize he knows she isn’t mine by blood. Cold fear digs its way up my spine when I think he might want her gone.
Beckett runs over to Silas and shows him the fire truck plushie we found on his bed.
“Fire,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Mine,” Beckett announces.
“Yes.”
“You’re doing better at talking to him,” I say, and Silas narrows his eyes in response to my praise.
For whatever reason—probably nerves—I find his reaction hilarious and start laughing again. Beau decides my amusement means the world isn’t ending. He returns to the hallway, where he watches people walk back and forth.
“Are these your friends?” I ask Silas when he just stares at me.
“No.”
“Not even Hoyt.”
“Call him Ruin.”
I glance at his president, just until Silas steps in the way and blocks my view.
“Who is the other guy?”
“The ginger?” he asks.
“His hair seems brown but yeah.”
“That’s my vice president. Call him Armor.”
“And the other people?”
“Two of them are in my club. You don’t need to know their names. The others are just local muscle. You don’t need to know their names. The women are Yazmin and Selene. The second one is Ruin’s woman.”
“Thank you for getting our stuff,” I say and try to hold his gaze.
Silas keeps looking at Brooklyn. His body language seems hostile, though not really toward her. Maybe he’s rattled by having people in his house. Or perhaps, he saw something at the other house that irritated him.
“His people showed up,” Silas mutters as he crowds me until I sit down in a chair. “If they make a stink, you need to file charges against the asshole.”
“Okay,” I say as Brooklyn shows me the doll in her hand. “I’ll do whatever you think should be done.”
Silas watches me like I’m tricking him. When I smile, he refuses to return it. Finally, I give up and focus on Brooklyn and Beckett now squeezed into the chair with me. They play with the toys from their new rooms.
“I’m glad you’re back,” I tell Silas despite how he seems irritated whenever I speak.
“Why?”
