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He gives a lengthy, very annoying pause, then steps back and opens the door. “I’ve got a better idea, sweetheart. How about you come inside and get him yourself?”
Every one of my muscles twitch at his use ofsweetheart, but now that I have a very good view of this guy, I decide to bite my tongue, unlike when Blaise called me the same stupid pet name. Unlike Blaise, this guy isn’t a cocky teenager who’s annoyingly pretty. No, he’s a grown-ass pain with scabs on his face, track marks on his arms, and a pipe in his hand.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” someone else asks.
I turn and find another man lounging on a leather recliner that’s perched in the center of a small room made of chipped, wooden walls and shaggy, orange carpet. Where the man in front of me is obviously drugged out, this guy looks like a steroid freak, all bulging muscles and acne.
“I’m not sure yet.” The guy in front of me fixes his gaze on me. “What’s your name?” When I make no move to offer my name, he adds, “If you don’t tell me who you are, sweetheart, then I can’t show you where Blaise is.”
My fingers curl inward. God, what I’d give to crack my knuckles against this jerk’s scabby face.
“It’s Belinda,” I lie.
“Belinda?” He doesn’t seem too impressed. Either that or he doesn’t believe me. “So, why are you here, Belinda?”
“I already told you this.” Irritation surfaces in my tone, despite my internal battle not to go all smartass on this guy. “I need to talk to Blaise.”
“Hmm …” He rubs his jawline, causing a scab to fall off. I nearly gag. “I’m not sure if there’s a Blaise here.” He trades a look with the other guy. “What do you think, D? Is there a Blaise here?”
The dude on the sofa—D—eyes me over, a smile curling at his lips. “Actually, my name’s Blaise.”
“I’m sure it is,” I say snidely. “That’s why he just called you D.”
“D’s my middle name,” D insists as he rises to his feet and crosses the room toward me. “So, what did you want to talk to me about? Or should we go somewhere more private?”
“Just tell me where Blaise is.” I give him a blank stare, pretending to be the epitome of indifference. Deep down, though, uneasiness stirs. This situation is bad, especially since I can’t see Blaise anywhere. But he has to be here. I saw him go in, and he never left … unless there’s a back door.
Crap, what if there’s a back door? What if he left me? But, where would he go? And why would he just leave his car here? Those questions should relieve me, but there have been plenty of times when my dad ditched me and left his truck behind. He even took his truck keys with him so I couldn’t drive away, which is the main reason I taught myself how to hotwire a car.
“I already told you, baby, I’m right here.” Steroid freak gives me a grin that sends a chill down my spine. Then he reaches for me, to do who knows what. I never get to find out, because I grab his wrist and twist his arm.
“Fuck!” he howls in pain. “Let go of me, you bitch.”
“Not until you tell me where Blaise is,” I threaten, twisting his arm harder.
Scab face starts to lunge for me, and I lift my leg, preparing to kick him in the balls. He notices before I make contact and swings around, coming at me from the side while steroid freak reaches for something in his pocket.
My pulse quickens. Crap, this is getting out of hand fast.
“Hadley …? What the hell?” Blaise appears in the doorway of the living room.
I breathe in relief, so thankful to see him, which is a bit strange, but justifiable.
“Hey,” I say, sounding all casual, though I’m one twist away from breaking steroid freak’s arm.
Blaise tilts his head curiously as he assesses the scene. “What’re you doing?”
“Oh, you know, just getting acquainted with your friends.” I release steroid freak’s arm and step back as he whirls toward me. “I don’t think they like me.”
Steroid freak glares at me, gripping his arm. “You’re going to pay for that,” he growls, stepping toward me.
“Touch her and I’ll break your fingers,” Blaise warns. “And I’ll make sure my father knows how shitty you treated Mel’s daughter.”
Steroid freak slams to a screeching halt. “You’re Mel’s daughter?” Nervousness edges into his features.
“Yeah …?” I glance at Blaise for help. “How does this dude know my dad?”
“Because he works for—”
