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“Just be careful with it, okay?” I utter softly.
He grows quiet. Then I feel fingers brush my hair, sweeping strands behind my ear. “I promise I will.”
He walks out of the washroom, leaving me feeling worried and confused and kind of fluttery among a clusterfuck of other unwelcome emotions. I don’t know what to make it. Don’t want to make anything of it.
Thankfully—and I never thought I’d think this—I have a buttload of other problems to distract me from whatever the hell Blaise is doing to me.
28
BLAISE
I thinkHadley may believe I’m overreacting with this whole getting-her-car-out-of-the-driveway issue. I’m not. At all. These guys her dad is mixed up with are dangerous men who do terrible things to people who piss them off. I know it. Everyone in town knows it. They should be locked away in prison for life, but my dad and Axel pay off police and judges and basically own this town.
If I could, I’d get out. Fucking hit the road and never look back. But until all of my brothers are eighteen, I’m stuck in Honeyton. And even then, I’m unsure if I could leave unless all of my brothers left too. And I’m not positive they would. No, sadly, Alex seems drawn to this corrupt world, unlike me who’s spent most of my life trying to keep us out of it. It’s why I get so pissed off and upset every time Alex goes over to that fucking trailer my dad owns. Well, that and because he gets high.
And now, here I am walking straight toward a part of that world I’ve tried so damn hard to stay away from. If I’m being honest, I want to turn around, go back inside, and demand that Hadley just ride with us. But I’m not that kind of guy, even though I sometimes pretend to be. Plus, with the way Hadley looked when I walked out of the house, as if this car was the only thing left for her to hang onto, I don’t think I can turn back without feeling guilty, even if it does seem a bit strange to me that driving a car will make her feel better. Then again, I guess Rhyland acts the same way sometimes.
As I stride toward the fence that divides the Harlyton’s property and mine, I keep my gaze fixed on the suspicious car parked in the driveway. The windows are tinted, giving me a shitty view of who’s inside, which sucks.
“Come on; reveal your identity so I know who I’m dealing with,” I mutter as I reach the fence.
On cue, the driver’s door swings open and out hops none other than William D., Axel’s personal bodyguard and, from rumors around town, personal assassin. Whether the latter is true or not is beyond me—you can’t believe half the rumors you hear around here. But the other half you probably can believe and that’s terrifying in itself.
William is dressed in a black suit and sporting a pair of sunglasses, the epitome of what movies make bodyguards look like. He’s as tall as me, which is pretty tall, but he carries about double my weight. He’s also not alone either. Someone is sitting in the passenger seat, but I can’t tell who.
“Well, well, well, look what the fucking sickly cat dragged in.” He stands near the driver’s side of the car with his arms crossed.
“I’m not sure why you’re acting surprised to see me.” I hoist myself over the fence. “You’ve been to my house before, so you know I live right next door.”
Yeah, see, here’s the thing. Axel and my dad used to be good old besties up until Axel stabbed my father in the back, opened his own business, and stole half my dad’s clients and lackeys. That was just under a decade ago. A line was drawn across Honeyton that day. Either you’re on Axel’s side or my father’s—never both. Of course, not every citizen is part of their stupid rival.
I wish I wasn’t. But, whether I like it or not, being a Porterson means I’m on the Porterson side. It’s why some people fear us and why some people despise us and why I never let anyone besides my brothers into my life—because I can’t trust anyone. Yet, I’ve somehow managed to let Hadley in and doing so has led me right here, standing in front of one of Axel’s bodyguards. I’m not sure what to make of it.
But I guess there’s no turning back now.
“Yeah, you live over there.” William nods at my house. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here, in Mel Harlyton’s driveway. You know the man’s a traitor, right? He’s been working for Axel and your father for weeks now, which is against the rules.”
“I know what the stupid rules are.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t need a recap.”
“You better watch your mouth,” he warns lowly, drawing his sunglasses down to give a dramatic glance around the quiet neighborhood. “There’s no one around right now to save your ass.”
“My ass doesn’t need to be saved,” I manage to say in a bored tone. Doesn’t mean I’m bored, though. No, I’m fucking nervous as hell. But letting William know that will only make the situation worse. “Besides, I know my dad and Axel have an agreement that their kids are off limits to this stupid feud between them, so your little threat is stupid.”
His lips twitch as he pushes his sunglasses up the brim of his nose. “Whatever, kid. I don’t have time to deal with smart-mouthed brats.”
I cross my arms. “Then why’d you get out of your car?”
His jaw ticks. “You wandered onto my turf.”
“Turf? What is this, 1930?” I’m pushing my luck, but I can’t back down and show signs of weakness—never can when I’m around anyone associated with Axel. And my father. If I do, my father will… Well, that’s a whole other story altogether. “And besides, my father owns the house and the driveway your car is currently parked in, which means that you’re technically breaking the rules, too.”
He inches toward me, red-faced and pissed off. “You got a lot of nerve talking to me that way. If you’re smart, you’d turn around, walk back into your little house, and go back to your little pretend world of safety.”
My jaw muscles spasm as I’m reminded of something I fear every day—that the safety I pretend exists around my brothers and I isn’t fake. Deep down, though, I know it is. Know that at any given moment, Axel could decide to break his agreement with my dad—after all, he did stab him in the back—and come after my brothers and me.
On occasion, my dad has tried to give us a bodyguard, which means having one of his men around us twenty-four seven, constantly watching us, reporting back to my dad, and bringing my dad’s world into our lives. That’s not the kind of life I want for me or my brothers.
My dad’s never been happy about my refusal. And honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t fight it more. Sometimes I wonder, though, if he secretly has someone watching us all the time.
