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Taken care of.
His words are cold and calculated like he’s on a mission. Nothing at all like the warmth they usually exude when he speaks to me.
He looks down at his phone again, scrolls a few times, and tilts the screen sideways for a better view of whatever he’s looking at. Then, he marches over to the door and unlocks several deadbolts just in time for it to swing open and just about hit him right in the face.
“Party’s here, boys.” The man I recognize right away from the gate throws an arm out and struts in like he owns the place without so much as a verbal invitation from Gage to step inside.
Jet black hair falls in thick locks around his forehead, but the bottom and sides of his head are shaved close. There’s a darkness to his almond-shaped blue eyes, the color that I imagine the ocean to be just before you’re so deep that the water turns pitch black. He’s got a black leather jacket on now instead of a suit, and an enormous black gun in one hand that’s resting on his left shoulder and pointing toward the ceiling.
“Sebastian Sterling,” he salutes with a grin. At least one of us is smiling and having a good time. He must be deranged to act so amused amid of a threat on our lives.
“This is Heston,” Gage points. “Tripp. And Warren.”
He and Gage are the same towering height and have an identical tone to their olive skin. Although Gage’s hair is more of a dark chocolate brown, there’s no mistaking that this is unmistakably his brother. They both have a tense temperament, one that only comes from surviving in the wake of wreckage and pain.
I knew from the moment that I met Gage that he was a good person. I felt comfortable around him instantly, and that’s not something that you can fake. But I also suspected that he was closed off because because he was jaded. Sadly, there was more truth to that hunch than I realized at the time. Trauma has settled into his DNA and it sparks a deep sympathy in me.
There’s no loving exchange of a hug or handshake, but Gage sharply nods his head in greeting. “Bash.”
“Brother.”
“There’s a gun safe and other supplies downstairs just through the first door in the hallway there,” Gage points toward a white door just off the kitchen. Sebastian looks behind to his squad of equally scary-looking men and juts his head toward where Gage is pointing. They all peer around on alert but disappear through the door and down the stairs.
“Nice place you got here,” Bash says. He tilts his head from side to side like he’s checking out the space. “A lot better than that shitty old commune barn you’ve been shacking up in. What a dump,” he laughs.
Heston crosses his arms and Tripp narrows his eyes. Warren’s jaw hardens and he looks like he wants to say something, but Gage holds his hand up before he gets the chance.
“Let’s just get this over with so you can clean your shoes and skip your pretty little ass back to your fancy penthouse. Wouldn’t want you to collect too much dust.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Bash agrees like Gage wasn’t being entirely sarcastic. When his gaze finally lands on me, I do my best not to squirm. He slides the toothpick in his mouth from side to side while smirking at the same time. “Nice to seeyouagain.” His eyes travel from my face to my feet and back again.
Realsubtle.
Gage all but growls, Tripp holds Warren back from charging him, and I roll my eyes.
“Wish I could say the same,” I say. Gage wasn’t happy to see his brother last night and so far hasn’t had a single nice word to say about anyone in his family. I may not know Bash, but by proxy, I hate him.
“Is that any way to talk to your future brother-in-law?” His tone is teasing and I know he’s just trying to rile me up. He seems like the type to get bored if there isn’t some sort of altercation happening.
It still brings bright pink to my cheeks. It’s hard to miss the corner of Gage’s lip turn up. Either he thinks it’s a funny joke, or he likes the idea of it.
“Kidding. Kind of,” he winks. “So! Did we get past the Gage-being-a-millionaire-with-a-criminal-record part yet?”
Gage blows out a long breath and looks up to the ceiling like there’s something up there that will help him stay calm.
“Criminal record?” I stutter in disbelief. I don’t think my eyebrows could get any closer to the hairline above my forehead. I’m starting to get whiplash from the amount of surprises and shock I’ve experienced in the last few hours alone.
“Great!” Bash sets his gun down on the entry table and claps his hands together with one loud smack. “Now that that’s over with, you got anything to eat around here? I hate killing on an empty stomach.”
Other than Gage and Bash, our faces all turn stark white. This is too much.
“No easing into it, huh?Fuck,” Warren says.
“I didn’t think ahead to providing a pre-ambush feast. I’m never here, so there’s not really anything to eat or drink. Sorry,” Gage says. “And Idon’thave a criminal record.”
“Right, because Dad scrubbed it.” Bash howls with laughter.
“Whatever. I did what I had to do whenever his junkie or bloodthirsty clients came knocking on our door,” Gage fires back. Shadowed circles ring his eyes and his voice is hoarse. It’s obvious that the old part of his life bothers him, and that he would have preferred to keep it packed away. I’m not familiar with the world that he came from, but judging by Bash’s cold indifference, it was dark.
