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My mouth drops open and my body pulls tight. Disbelief wraps its claws around my throat, stealing my words for a second. “Thanks?”
“I needed that,” he says, moving the stupid patio cushions over to the side of the garage.
While I stand here with his fucking cum sliding down my thigh.
“You're an asshole,” I seethe quietly. Tears prick my eyes, and I blink furiously. I will not let him see me cry.
“You got what you wanted, didn't you?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I whisper.
He sighs, running his hand over his face. I can't tell if it's my imagination playing tricks on me, but it almost looked like there was a fine tremor in his hand.
“Look, is this going to be an issue? Are you still good to watch Hunter?”
I shake my head and look at my feet before I remember that I'm trying not to let the tears fall. “Get the fuck out of here, Silas, before I forget that I love your son.”
He stills, his gaze snapping to me. “What did you say?”
I open my mouth, but then the side door to the house opens. Bane fills the doorway, his expression thunderous. His gaze flies from me to Silas, and I have no idea what expression is on my face. My feelings are too jumbled together right now.
“What?” Silas snaps.
“We got a problem,” he says.
37
BANE
I noticea ball of dark fabric next to her bare feet, following the long line of her legs and pausing when I realize she's not wearing my shirt like usual. Instead of the nearly faded logo of some punk band, it's an old school Reaper logo.
It looks exactly like the shirt Silas used to wear years ago.
My gaze slices toward the asshole in question, and I fold my arms across my chest and wait. He might think he's patient, but he folds when it comes to me. He always has.
He finishes fucking around with whatever he's doing with the patio furniture and looks at me. “What kind of problem?”
“Something going on here?” I ask instead of answering. He should know better than to ask me to spill club secrets in front of her. I'd never willingly put her in danger. And I'm not going to tell her about this unless I have to.
There's a low pit in my stomach that warns me that shit is about to get very bad again. My intuition sending smoke signals to get my attention.
“We're fine, ain't that right, Evangeline?” Silas says, his voice dry and caustic.
“Yep, all good, Daddy St. James,” she chirps with entirely too much bite for her forced enthusiasm.
Instead of the smirk I expected, Silas scowls. And that right there tells me everything I need to know.
Something happened. And Silas fucked up.
I sigh, stretching my neck from left to right and blowing out a breath. “Alright, we'll deal with whatever this is later, yeah? C'mon, sugar, let's get you inside. There's still a few minutes left on the tornado warning. Don't know what the hell you two deemed so important you had to go outside during this storm,” I mutter, stepping into the garage holding it open for them.
Silas goes first, not bothering to look behind him, so he misses the way she glares at his retreating back.
“You alright, baby girl?” I reach out for her, threading my fingers with hers when she gets close enough.
She looks up at me, her teeth denting her bottom lip. “Are you mad?”
“Course not. What's there to be mad about?” I pull her toward the house, but she digs her heels in, her other hand gripping my wrist. I look over my shoulder at her, my gaze falling to the nervous way she's fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
