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I look over my shoulder, give her a smirk as my response, and wait for her question, or whatever it is she’s about to say. I can tell by the way she’s watching me that she’s really focused and thinking hard, which means this question will probably be a good one.
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m not sure I like it.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. I want to be a dick and tell her that she has zero fucking say in what I do or the way I do it, especially after she ran away the way she did, but I don’t. I’m not trying to start a fight. I want this shit to be good, so fucking good that she never wants to leave again.
So I don’t pop off.
“It means your brother is a fed, and he’s trying to pin some shit on a group. I fucking hate that group, so he asked for the Devil’s Hellions and Hell’s Souls to help, and we are.”
“Asked or demanded?” she asks.
Biting the corner of my lip, I jerk my chin. “Demanded. But we’re getting paid.”
“Don’t spend that money before the cash is in your hand,” she mumbles.
Turning back to the eggs, I smile because she’s right. I wouldn’t anyway, but her warning is cute as fuck. It doesn’t take me long to make a couple of omelets. It’s not that I’m good at them or anything. It's mainly because they're plain as fuck. Just eggs and cheese.
“I got some work to do this morning. Four brothers will be guarding the house while I’m gone. Then we got some shit to do this afternoon. You good with that?” I ask as I plate the eggs.
She doesn’t speak right away. Turning around, I place the plate in front of her and slide a fork over to her. I watch as she lifts her hand, her finger tapping the handle of the knife a couple of times. Then she lifts her head, her eyes finding mine.
“You’re leaving me here?” she asks.
I pick up my fork, feeling the weight in my hand. Flicking my gaze down, I stare at the shiny metal in my grasp. I don’t know why I’m focused on the fucking fork this way, but I am until I lift my eyes to meet hers.
Fuck me.
She looks sad as if she doesn’t want me to leave her here alone. “Yeah, babe. But Hellcat and Volt will be here, so will two other guys. You’re in good hands, and you’ll be safe.”
“But you’re leaving.”
She doesn’t eat her food. She drops her fork, and I watch it bounce against her plate as she stands. Silently, she makes her way around the bar and into the kitchen. She stands right in front of me. Turning to face her, I dip my chin so my eyes can hold hers.
“I’m leaving,” I rasp.
Reese lifts her hand, placing her palm against the center of my bare chest. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Wrapping my fingers around her slim wrist, I watch her for a moment in silence before I speak. “I won’t be gone long and swear to fuck, buttercup, you’ll be safe.”
She lets out a sigh. “I’m not worried about me so much,” she murmurs.
Lifting her hand, I shift my head to the side and touch my lips to her palm before I say, “You never have to worry about me, Reese. Not like that. I’ll be home this afternoon, and I got something to show you when I do.”
ChapterSeventeen
AGONY
As I siton my bike, I think about staying behind. It’ll piss Logan off, but I don’t give much of a fuck about him in the long run. Sure, it’ll be nice to have all this shit handled and off our plates in a way that keeps us from going to jail, but it isn’t worth Reese’s safety. Not to me anyway.
“We got her, brother. You don’t have to worry about a goddamn thing,” Hellcat states, his lips curving into a grin.
I believe him, but there is something that makes me apprehensive about this. Maybe it’s because of the unknown. I really don’t know much about this guy who has been stalking her other than he was abusive.
I leave the house and move through town, making my way straight toward Logan’s stash house. It’s still hard to believe this asshole is a fed, but the fact he’s a giant fucking asshole helps make it a bit more believable.
When I pull into his driveway, I groan at the sight of the bikes and beater cars that are parked around. This fucking place is such a dump. I know now that he keeps it this way on purpose, but Jesus fucking Christ.
Heading into the house, I ignore the garbage that’s piled up high as I walk through the entrance. The furniture in this shithole is limited. There is one ratty-assed couch and then some of those portable banquet tables set up anywhere and everywhere, with trash collected all around the legs.
