AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And what about your Prez? This is important shit for him to be putting on his VP’s head.”
“You let me worry about my Prez, you just keep yours in check until we get you everything you need to take him down. And when that happens, Lector, you're handing him over to us. Me and Prez got some shit to air out with him.”
“What, no blood?” Squealer looks disappointed when we step back outside.
“Nope,” Jessie says, staring at the guy with the scar, as he gets back on his bike.
“So?” Squealer hands us back our weapons and presses for more.
“We got a truce,” Jessie tells him.
“A truce?” The look on Squealer's face is muddled somewhere between shock and outrage. “With Bastard scum?”
“Just until this mess is sorted,” Jessie quickly puts his mind at ease.
“And then what?” Squeal asks, rolling the toothpick that he’s chewing on between his teeth.
“Then, we go back to hating them,” Jessie stares at the guy at the door as he takes his handlebars and starts up his bike.
It’s been a tense couple of hours and I spend it curled up on the sofa, stroking Duke for comfort. Neither of the men Brax left me with really speak to me, or each other for that fact. Brax’s brother is younger, taller, and a little broader than he is. They don’t look much alike but have the same thick bottom lip, and hard expression when they focus. And right now, Nyx’s focus is all on me.
“Who are you to my brother?” he asks me eventually, his voice just as stern and commanding as Brax’s.
“I’m no one to your brother,” I answer honestly, and I’m surprised by how much that hurts me to say out loud.
Jesus, Grace, you have a fiancé, Julian… remember.
“I don’t buy that, he brought you here.” His eyes roam around the room where we’re sitting. “None of us knew about this place and we’re his brothers.”
“I’m just a job. Your brother took me because your Prez told him to,” I explain, unsure if I should be divulging this information or not. But fuck it, Brax was the one who called these guys in to help, not me.
Nyx throws a confused glance at the other guy. He’s attractive too, just in a really odd way. He has ghost pale skin, sharp features, and his jet-black hair is swept back off his face. But what haunts me most about him, are his eyes and how they pinch me with such dark suspicion.
“Okay then, so who are you to Prez?” Brax’s brother asks me yet another question I can’t answer.
“That’s what Brax is trying to find out.” I move past him into the kitchen. “Anyone want coffee?”
“Brax is putting a lot on the line for you,” Nyx ignores my offer, standing up and following me. “Prez ain’t gonna be happy when he finds out what him and Jessie are doing. That’s even if those stupid fuckers make it back here alive. You expect me to believe that he’s done all that just to dig up a few secrets. Brax doesn’t do shit for people.”
“I don’t know the answers. I don’t know why he’s helping me and I don’t know why four men tried to kill me a few nights ago. I never asked to be in this mess either,” I snap, pissed at him for trying to make me feel bad for what’s happening. I storm into the bathroom, locking the door before I let myself cry.
How am I in this mess, and why am I now really worried about the danger Nyx says Brax has put himself in?
I wait alone in the bathroom so I can avoid the stares from the two men, and it’s not long until I hear the sound of bikes again. Flinging open the door, I rush out onto the porch and my heart beats a little steadier when I see that all four bikes have returned.
Brax turns off his engine and makes his way toward me, and I have to cross my hands behind my back because I don’t trust myself not to throw myself at him in relief to have him back unharmed.
“What happened?” I ask, eager for an explanation. But everyone’s attention has turned back toward the dirt track, to the sound of more bikes approaching.
Brax turns his back to me, reaching behind him and curling his arm around my hip, shielding me with his body. It feels protective and makes me blush like I'm in high school again.
Two more riders pull up in the already crowded yard.
“Now shit’s gonna hit the fan,” Nyx says under his breath.
“Least Brax didn’t knock up his daughter,” the one with the clever mouth pipes up, earning himself a stern look from both Nyx and Brax at the same time.
An older, scary-looking man gets off his bike, and I recognize his face from the mug shot in my mom's briefcase as he stares at Brax and marches toward us.
