AllFreeNovel
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My lips press into a tight line, cringing as the thought of going back home leaves my hands shaking. “I, umm . . . I might just hang out here for a little bit,” I tell him. “I’ve got a few designs I need to nail down for next week, and if I go home, I’m going to end up binging Sons of Anarchy and I’ll never get anything done.”
Big Jim watches me for a moment, his gaze calculating, suspicious because I’m usually the first to want to get out of here at the end of a long day. “You sure? I could give you a ride.”
“No, really. I’m alright. I’ll only be an hour or so.”
He lets out a heavy breath, still a little unsure before finally nodding. “Alright. Be safe. You know the cops still haven’t caught the asshole who attacked Crew, so if you see anything or even feel a little unsafe, take off. Don’t hang around to see what’s going on. We can replace things, but we can’t replace you.”
A fond smile settles on my lips. “Thanks, but I’ll be good,” I tell him.
“Alright. Call me if you need anything,” he says, reaching for the front door, the papers piled high in his arms. “And don’t forget to lock up.”
“You got it,” I say, and with that, he pulls the door open and slips out into the night, and I can’t help but hurry after him to pull the door closed and deadbolt it. I turn out the lights for the front of the shop before turning off the little OPEN sign that sits in the front window.
Heading back to my station, I drop down at my table and focus my attention back on my sketchpad while trying to clear my mind. I listen to the busy Brooklyn night, to the Harleys coming and going up the street, the drunken idiots passing by, and the busker trying to make a dollar with nothing more than his voice, a bucket, and a pair of drumsticks. At least, I assume they’re drumsticks. Otherwise he probably just pulled a few branches off a nearby tree. Can’t lie though, he’s pretty good.
When the clock ticks close to midnight, I put my pencil down and decide it’s time to give up. I’m sure by this point, my creepy new friend has already come and gone and is probably pissed off that I’m not tucked in my bed for him to play his fucked-up little games. But there’s no denying that I can still taste him on my tongue, and I hate that I want so much more.
Packing up my station, I hurry through my sanitizing routine, making sure everything is perfect for the next day. Then making my way into the back, I double-check the doors and windows are locked before turning out the lights and making my way back to the lobby.
Digging in my bag, I find my keys, and after glancing back into the shop to make sure I’ve done everything right, I finally push out into the night, a yawn tearing out of me. Pulling the door closed behind me, I shove the key in the lock, and just as I crouch down to lock the floor deadbolt into place, a shadow looms over me.
I gasp, throwing myself back up as I twirl around, and for a moment, I think I’m seeing the ghost of Crew standing right in front of me. My jaw drops, and I suck in a breath, my heart racing, but as he creeps a little closer, I realize that this isn’t quite the friend I once knew.
It’s Crew’s face, but older. Fewer tattoos and not quite as built.
I wonder if this is the mysterious brother I never knew he had.
“You Kyah?” he grunts, his tone deeper than Crew’s but still somehow so familiar.
An ache settles deep in my chest, and I have to keep myself from reaching out to him. “You look just like him,” I breathe, trying to remind myself that in the end, Crew was an asshole and doesn’t deserve my pain. I shouldn’t miss him like this, but goddamn it, I miss him more than ever.
“That’s the funny thing about sharing genes,” he mutters, slowly inching closer and making my skin crawl. Even though he shares Crew’s face, there’s something much darker within his eyes, and something tells me to run as fast as I can. “You never showed up to his funeral. What kind of woman skips out on her friend’s funeral?”
“The kind who knows what’s good for her,” I say, backing up a step.
He steps right with me, only he takes a much larger stride, closing the gap. “I don’t think you have any idea what’s good for you,” he says, his gaze trailing over my face and then down my body. He reaches up, his fingers brushing across my jaw. “You really are pretty, aren’t you? My brother might have been a sick bastard, but he always had good taste.”
Slapping his hand away, I back up again with venom in my eyes. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Crew’s brother laughs, his eyes lighting with excitement. “He told me you had a feisty side, but for some reason, I never quite believed him,” he says. “But it’s nice to be proved wrong every once in a while, don’t you think?”
“What the hell do you want with me?” I demand, knowing damn well that despite how things ended between me and Crew, he never would have stood for something like this. He always wanted to protect me, you know, except that one time he didn’t. “There’s nothing here for you.”
He inches toward me again, and I scold myself for staying back tonight. I should have let Big Jim drive me home and everything would have been fine. But then he might have shown up at my apartment. Though, then he might have had to deal with my new creepy friend, assuming he was there, of course. Who am I kidding? After last night, he was definitely there for more. Unless this is the asshole who’s been sneaking into my room.
“Oh, there’s plenty here for me,” he says, leaning closer, trying to intimidate me, and damn it, it’s working. “It’s a real shame my brother didn’t introduce us sooner. We could have had a lot of fun with a sweet thing like you.”
“Back off. Otherwise, you’ll find out just how much fun I can be.”
The corner of his lips lifts into the smallest grin, and despite his face only moving the tiniest bit, the change is enough for his whole demeanor to shift and show me the true devil inside.
I was right. I need to run.
Not waiting another moment, I barely take a step before crashing into a solid wall of pure muscle, and a set of warm hands grip my hips. My gaze tilts up, and I have to crane my neck, more than ready to scream, but I let out a heavy sigh of relief finding Viper. “You good?” he spits, his gaze locked on the man over my shoulder.
I nod, ready to keep running, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, I grip his cut as though it could offer me some sort of protection. “This ain’t your territory,” Viper growls, a tone I’ve only ever heard once—when a member of a rival club wandered into the store. “You’re crossing a line.”
“I’m collecting a debt,” Crew’s brother says.
