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That can only mean one thing.
Trace is hanging out with Hellions? He doesn’t have the trident ink, the telltale sign of a Hellion, but he isn’t straying far from these guys, either.
Oh shit. Is he an initiate or something? Is that why Benny is so up in arms about it? Acting like he’s mad with Trace? The way they’re eyeing one another is downright hostile.
“Give us a minute.” The club is still loud as hell, but the low timbre of Trace’s voice carries easily through the space. The four guys around him nod, then disperse, but they don’t stray far. They end up behind random women, grinding on them and touching their bodies as they keep their eyes on the situation brewing between Trace and Benny. The first one, though, stays planted firmly where he is. Trace nudges his shoulder and when he finally takes Trace’s order, he eyes Benny as he passes him. Benny glares in his direction.
“What the fuck is this all about?” Benny growls the question. Trace doesn’t falter.
“They’re protection,” he tells his best friend as if it’s a common occurrence.
“Protection… Protection from what?” Benny snaps, his forearms pumping. I’m not sure where the animosity between them is coming from. Last I knew, they were fine. It must just be that Trace is here with them. People Benny perceives as enemies.
“From C.C.C., who happens to be hanging around tonight. They don’t like their new drift competition… especially since I’m the one who beat their men nearly to death and got them locked up.” Trace’s eyes flick from Benny to mine long enough for him to catch my nervous swallow. His eyes soften with understanding and remorse for a fraction of a second before he looks back at Benny. Shit. I have to turn away.
My attack has somehow indirectly driven Trace… To what? To become a Hellion? And what does he mean about the new drift competition? Is he not going to take the offer my father gave him to join our team?
“And how the hell are you paying them? You have no money, nothing.”
Trace scoffs, offended. His brows draw together, forming a deep V between them. “I’m not paying them. They’re my friends.”
“Your friends…” Benny lets the words linger and steps closer to the guy who’s been like a brother to him. “So you’re joining them.”
No one misses the disgust those words are drowning in from the guy who, given a wardrobe change, could look fresh off the streets as he accuses a more clean-cut man of being a gangster. My heart sinks for the men in front of me. I can’t believe things have gone so wrong for Trace that he’s forced to do something like this. Then again, I can because the justice system has failed me, and if I could do something about it, I would. But I also see the way this is triggering Benny. He’s been through so much with gangs and losing a childhood friend that he can’t bear to do it again with Trace.
Trace’s jaw flutters, but his harshness stalls, and for a moment, everything in him begs his friend to understand. His blue eyes plead and that crease in his brow deepens with hurt.
But Benny doesn’t stand down. He will not hear it and is going to judge his best friend… Harshly.
The tenuous truce Benny and I called earlier when we got to the club is quickly ending. I understand where he is coming from, and I wouldn’t like my sister doing what Trace is doing, but who the hell is he to abandon his friend in a time of need like this? What does he think that is going to solve?
The simmering anger I’ve been working all day to tamp down flares within me, but it isn’t toward Trace. It’s for my boyfriend because I honestly understand where Trace is coming from. Only a day ago we found out that the assholes that attacked me are getting out of the charges… They’ll be free to do what they want. I understand this is the fight that Benny is going to school for, so he can make a difference the right way, but maybe justice never prevails. Assholes never get what they deserve. Trace isn’t far off in finding his own help.
Maybe it’s time to solve our own problems.
I’ve been dealing with unruly people my entire life and nothing is ever dealt with. We just move on to the next event and hope it isn’t worse than the last one.
Benny is in Trace’s face, his body pulsing with anger. Trace glares at him. I’ve never seen them in this place before. Trace can be an asshole and Benny usually just lets everything roll off his shoulders, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to back down from this one. I hate I understand both sides, but I hate even more that I’m with Trace on this one.
“You shouldn’t have brought them here. You’re putting everyone in danger.” I rush forward and put my hand on Benny’s shoulder when his fist pulses. I don’t think he’d start anything, but I can’t be sure. His passion for this subject sometimes gets the best of him. He’s failing to see that Trace needs him on his side with this one. Trace is tense, his own anger morphing into grief. I hate what I feel for him when I see the moment he realizes Benny won’t see it his way. His eyes flick to mine, their depths pleading with me for an instant. When Benny shrugs off my touch and ignores my interjection, only to get closer to Trace, I get pissed.
Trace is doing what he feels he has to do to survive. However, I’m not interested in watching them fight it out.
“Benny, stand down.” My authoritative tone snags Trace’s attention, and his eyes now burn with indignation. Typical. He’s given the situation too much, and he knows I’ve seen it, so he has to lock it up.
“Don’t fucking look at her when you have thugs running around with you.” I roll my eyes and huff a disapproving and frustrated breath over this nonsense. I did not come here tonight to deal with this bullshit. Giving Junie and Lauren hugs, I fish my bike keys from my pocket. “I’m out of here.”
Fuck it, I’ll go straight home.Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.I’ll be safe, but I need to be out of this club and away from drama. I can’t stand it anymore.
I stalk through the club, pushing through the throngs of people. Benny snags my arm, but I slip from his hold, not wanting to be touched right now.
“Nox!” he calls to get my attention over the music. I carry on, needing to be outside in the fresh air.Warm summer air assaults me when I push through the double doors at the front of the club and take in a deep breath, trying to expel the panic buzzing in my veins and making my brain fuzzy.
I’m unnecessarily angry, I realize this, but I’m annoyed that he is taking a part in making me feel like this. What I didn’t realize was that I’d have to say no drama from my boyfriend or friends group. Seems like that should’ve gone without saying.
“Nox, I’m so so—”
“I’m leaving,” I tell him, stern and unwavering. “I’m getting on my bike and I’m driving home—”
