find a weakness in me. I’d been trained by the best; I’d been trained by Ryder, and he allowed no weaknesses. Not after what’d happened to him. Not after he’d been weakened for life. No one knew about Ryder’s weakness except me and Tyson, and we were sworn to secrecy, bound by something more powerful than what bound our gang—we were bound by blood.
Still, the smug expression on Conor’s face made my stomach sink. Why the hell did he look like he’d just seen something that’d made his day? There was nothing—
Then my heart sank into my stomach.
Fuck.
He’d seen me with Estella. There was no other explanation for it. He must’ve seen her brush aside my hair, and seen me holding her hand.
Anyone who knew me knew I didn’t do shit like that. Yeah, I kissed girls, touched girls, and screwed girls, but I never held their fucking hand. I’d taken things way too far with Estella—I’d let her in—and now that asshole, Conor, had seen us together. Even if he told Troy, I didn’t really know what they’d do with the information.
I was holding a girl’s hand; so fucking what?
Still, I didn’t want Estella getting dragged into the middle of the chaos that was my life. It’d been hard enough convincing her to stay for Dylan. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be giving me many more chances.
I just hoped Conor hadn’t seen her face properly before she’d left. It worried me that I’d unknowingly exposed her to the Allbrooks.
Shooting Conor a look of indifference, I flipped my middle finger at him and climbed onto my bike. A broad grin spread across his face, and he gave me a thumbs up before pulling on his helmet and riding out of the parking lot at high speed.
Asshole.
That night, I got drunk with the boys.
We sat by the creek behind our house, celebrating Ryder and Tyson’s return. Dylan wasn’t feeling too great and I hadn’t wanted to leave him home by himself, so we’d decided to stay on the property instead.
The guys were all talking around me, but I was only half-listening to what they were saying. My mind kept drifting back to Estella and why she affected me like this. It kept drifting back to Conor and how much he’d seen this afternoon.
I finally paid attention when Cohen started talking about Allbrook’s new fighter; some young guy who was slowly working his way up the ranks and being trained by Troy himself. Normally, Troy let his thugs coach their fighters, so if he was getting involved then he probably thought this new kid had a good shot at beating me.
“He any good?” Harris asked, taking a swig of his beer.
Harris was the oldest in the gang—he was thirty-one—and he always got to the point. That’s what I liked about him—he didn’t play games, he didn’t mess with you; he just gave it to you straight.
“They’re saying he is, but I haven’t laid eyes on him yet,” Cohen said with a shrug. Cohen was our recon guy. He found out all the dirt about the rival gangs, but especially the Allbrooks. “All I know is, they reckon this new boy could beat Vin.”
Everyone turned to gauge my reaction, but I didn’t even react at the news. I had other things on my mind; like why Estella had touched me like that. And why the hell had she said she cared about me?
“Then they’re fucking idiots.” Ryder’s voice broke above everyone else’s, loud and clear. “No one can beat Vincent, and those Allbrook fuckers know it.” He gave everyone a hard look as if daring them to contradict him
No one was stupid enough to disagree with Ryder. At least to his face.
Then Ryder’s eyes shot to me and a cold smile formed on his mouth. “No one can beat you because you don’t have a weakness, isn’t that right, little bro?”
To everyone else, it might’ve seemed like Ryder was showing his confidence in me, but I knew better. That’s not what he was doing. He was exercising his power over me.
When I spoke, my mouth felt dry. “Yeah, that’s right.”
Ryder gave me a curt nod before his eyes snapped back to the other guys. “This is such a cock-fest. Let’s get some pussy down here.”
The guys cried out in agreement, and I watched Todd and Tyson pull out their phones and start texting furiously. They were usually the ones who knew the easy girls that got a thrill from hanging out with bad boys. These girls wanted to be seen with us; they wanted to be associated with power, that’s why they came to us.
An hour later, about ten girls had shown up. You had to give Todd and Tyson credit—they knew some pretty hot girls.
A few of them had bee-lined straight for me. They knew who I was and they wanted to connect themselves to me somehow, even if it was just through a one night stand.
The only problem was they were kind of pissing me off tonight.
About three or four of the girls had tried to unsuccessfully strike up conversation with me, but had eventually wandered off to the other guys when they realized they weren’t going to get anything from me.
I sat in a chair close to the dock, staring out at the creek, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Maybe I was sick. Maybe I had brain damage. There was something not right with my head.
My thoughts kept drifting back to the day I’d been here with Estella and how good it’d felt just to hold her. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with me.
Before I could try and diagnose my sickness, a girl planted herself in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Viiiiinceeeent! I haven’t seen you in soooo long!” she slurred in an irritating high-pitched tone.
Shit. It was Sarah, and she was one of the clingiest girls I’d ever had the misfortune of sleeping with. Don’t get me wrong. She was hot as hell—long legs, tanned, big boobs—but she wanted way too much from me. She wanted a relationship from me even though I’d made it clear that there was never going to be anything between us apart from sex.
Taking a gulp of my beer, I shot her a look of disinterest. “Not long enough.”
She tilted her head back and let out a roar of laughter, swatting at me with a hand. “You are suuuch a tease, Vin!” Her eyes were too unfocused and her words were jumbled together. She’d been having something other than just alcohol—that’s why she was acting extra crazy tonight.
“What are you on?” I muttered, trying to push her off me, but she held on.
“I’m on you.” She lowered her voice, probably in an attempt to be sexy, and planted a kiss on neck where my ‘M’ tattoo was. “And I want you.”
Her lips felt good against my skin—she knew how to turn me on—but it was also annoying me. I pushed her away again and stood up.
Sarah almost tumbled to the ground, but managed to grab onto my arm before she lost her balance completely. Straightening up, she shot me an annoyed look. “What the hell is up with you, Vin? I’ve been calling you for two weeks and I don’t hear anything back.” She placed her hands on my chest and leaned in. “That’s two weeks wasted that you could’ve been fucking my brains out.”
I rolled my eyes and took her hands off me, placing the beer bottle on the chair. “I’m sure you found someone else to keep you busy.”
“Don’t call me a whore, you asshole!” Sarah tried to push me, moving sluggishly, and I easily grabbed her hands, finally paying attention long enough to see how red her eyes were. She’d definitely taken something before she’d gotten here; that’s the only reason she had the guts to talk to me like that.
“Sarah,” I said, surprised by how calm my voice was, “you’re talking crap right now. You’re drunk and God knows what the fuck you’ve been shooting up. When you calm down, and you want to go home, let me know and I’ll give you a ride.”
As I turned, I saw that everyone was watching us, like we were some sort of fucking spectacle. For a few seconds, I stared around at everyone in disgust—they were all drunk, drugged up, and the girls were happy for the guys to do whatever they wanted to them. It made me sick.
Estella was right. We chose this life for ourselves. We didn’t have to do any of this, but we did. There was no way I wanted Dylan to become like us.
“Vin, I’m sorry!” Sarah clung onto my arm, her nails digging into me. “I’m sorry! Let me make it up to you!
