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“Romeo,” she said, this time her voice a little surer. Her gaze flicked over to me, worry shadowed in her eyes, then looked back at Romeo. “I was talking to—”
“No.” He stiffened at the sound of another engine. “Get inside, Bailey. Right now.”
“It’s them,” a new voice said, but I didn’t turn to look at it, too caught in the trap of what was happening right in front of me. “Fuck, it’s them.”
“Inside,” Romeo roared, so loud that I winced, my stomach dropping, the same old feeling washing through me that always did when Travis came home in a mood and I knew what was going to follow it up: a night of fist hitting, blood, bruises, and pain.
My body jerked as I witnessed him grabbing her arm and yanking her toward his house. The switch flipped and gone was the Peyton that Travis had created, and in her place was the Peyton I’d always been deep down—the one my brother had taught me to be. I’d buried her for a while there, but now she was back, full of vengeance.
“Hey!” I called, taking a step forward. “Don’t grab her like that.”
He stopped at the front door, and my attention moved between him and the girl. “Stay out of my goddamn business,” he warned.
My nostrils flared, my shoulders pushing back as I tried to make myself bigger, it was kind of impossible though as I wasn’t an inch over five feet tall. He narrowed his eyes on me and I did the same right back, not willing to back down.
I opened my mouth, about to say something else, but he pulled her inside, slamming the door shut behind them both, and leaving me standing there full of frustration. Everything in me wanted to march over there, but I knew better. I knew outside forces only made things worse.
“You should go inside,” the voice I hadn’t turned to look at said.
I blinked, slowly moving my attention to him, spinning on my heels and realizing I’d come out here with no shoes on. Glancing down at my toes, my chipped dark red nails reminded me that I needed to paint them soon.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I tried to whip out, but my tone was off, my body swaying to the left, at least, it felt like it. In reality, I was standing as still as a statue, staring at the man who looked so much like Romeo but also not like him at all. They had to be brothers. And he…he couldn’t have been a day over 20, and that made me an entire decade older than him at thirty.
Which was why I shouldn’t have still been staring, taking in the slacks he was wearing, clinging to his hips like they were afraid to let go and not be touching him anymore. His black shirt was rolled up to his elbows, some tattoos peeking out on his forearms—forearms that were tensing as he stood there, cracking his knuckles one at a time.
“Not tryin’ to tell you what to do,” he murmured, his voice like a jagged edge covered in velvet. Fuck. A voice shouldn’t have had me squeezing my legs together like that. “Just thought you may be a little cold.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, a move that I both hated but liked at the same time.
“I…” I stared down at my shorts, my legs covered in goose bumps. He was observant, that was for sure, but so was I, and I hadn’t missed him looking behind him at the car that parked five houses down as we were talking. “Friends of yours?” I asked, finally gaining my bearings as I sidestepped toward my front door.
“What?” he growled, his lips lifting into a sneer. He looked…dangerous. Fuck. I placed my hand on my stomach, backing away several steps as he moved closer to me. I didn’t do danger, not anymore. “I don’t associate with pieces of shit like them.” His face was turning red, his rage clear for me to see. But it was gone in the blink of an eye as he pushed his hand through his ink-black hair, gripping it for a second as he stared down at me. “Go inside.”
It was an order. One that I wanted to refuse. But…I needed to go and get some shoes on anyway to get Reed, so I spun around, trying not to let my body pull in on itself. It didn’t matter how long I spent away from Travis, those natural instincts to protect myself from men were built into me. I didn’t think they’d ever go away if I was honest.
Pulling in a deep breath, I stepped inside my house, slipped my shoes on, then grabbed my keys and headed back out.
He was still standing there, one foot on each driveway as they were only separated by a thin row of bricks. “Didn’t I just tell you to go inside?” he gritted out, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was still staring at the car five houses down.
“I’m going out,” I told him, although, I had no idea why. I didn’t owe him an explanation; I didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
I blinked over at him as I pulled open my driver’s door, but he still wasn’t paying me any attention. His body was taut, his muscles locked into place with his feet hip width apart. And in that moment, he reminded me so much of the men that worked for my brother—protective, foreboding, angry—that it shocked me for a second and I just sat there with my door wide open, my hands on the steering wheel, staring at him.
Footsteps sounded out, but the only thing that moved was my gaze as he sauntered closer, his expression changing the closer he got. Gone was the straight line of his lips, and in its place was a smirk. “Where you goin’?”
I licked my lips, tilting my head to look up at him as I murmured, “To pick my son up from daycare.”
Why was I telling him that? Why was I still sitting here? Why couldn’t I stop looking at him?
He nodded, his attention not moving off of me as he gripped the top of my door and told me, “Drive safe, mama.”
My stomach flipped at his words, my mouth opening and closing as he shut my car door and stepped back, watching me with a knowing look on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, and…dammit, I’d fallen into his trap.
“Fuck,” I ground out, slapping my hand on my steering wheel as I turned the ignition on with the other. I refused to look back over at him as I reversed off the driveway, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still feel his eyes on me.
He was dangerous, in more ways than one, and for some reason, I wanted to find out justhowdangerous he was.
But I wouldn’t.
I was here to start a new life for my boys. Men were off the table.
