“Heidi!” Blake snaps, and I turn to face him. He’s off his bike, helmet removed, and sweat dripping down his face. He doesn’t appear well as he holds out his hand to me.
Duty calls.
Climbing off Milton’s bike, vibrations still ripple through me as I pull off the helmet and go over to Blake. Once I’m near enough, he grabs me and wraps his arm around my shoulder, leaning his weight on me. My legs, shaky from the ride, threaten to collapse. He’s so fucking heavy.
“You want something for that?” Milton steps forward, fumbling inside his inner jacket pocket, his eyes like a forest on fire in the setting sun. His cheeks are flushed from the journey as mine probably are, his black hair mussed and damp from the helmet.
“What you got?”
“Something to help with the pain.” He pulls out a small baggie of pills.
“Hit me up.” Milton hands the bag over, and leaning off me, Blake fishes two out of the packet and swallows them dry.
“You might want to get yourself checked out when you get back. And Nick needs to know about Grady.”
Blake nods, resembling the older man he is. “Fill him in when you’re both alone. Fuck knows who the bastard’s been talkin’ to about our shit. Something’s going on. We keep our heads down until I get this deal sorted with Jerome, then we seek out the traitors. I know there’s more.”
Nodding, Milton walks ahead, and Blake drags me along under his arm. He draws me closer just as we’re about to enter. “Remember what I said. Say a word, and I’ll put a gun in your pussy and pull the trigger. You hear me?”
“Yes, Blake.” The threat drifts to the back of my mind as we pass through the entrance and into chaos. There are so many men and women, but no children, despite the Ferris wheel and other rides across the field. Cotton candy and hotdogs tease my senses, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything at all today. Knowing I can’t rely on Blake to feed me, I make a mental note to ask Milton later.
Soon, we arrive outside a large tent, and as we walk inside, the Devil Horns logo greets us, alongside two others I don’t recognize. Unlike back in the club, there’s a chilled atmosphere here. Chatter and laughter fill the air instead of anger and testosterone.
Blake’s men blend with faces I don’t know, seemingly all having a good time. “It’s neutral territory,” Blake answers my unspoken question. “No one can do shit here.”
“What the fuck is she doing here?” a voice suddenly rages.
It’s Nicolas. He has a blond on his lap he’s not the least bit interested in, and judging by the slur in his voice, he’s drunk—which is never the best combination.
“Mind your own fucking business,” Blake snarls, shoving me to the side.
Assessing his father, and I know what Nicolas sees. The usual frightening calmness Blake emits is gone. He’s agitated, in pain, and sweating profusely. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Go back to your slut. We’ll talk later.”
Angered, Nick turns and leaves the gazebo. With a nod from Blake, Milton follows him, and I’m suddenly standing alone, not knowing what to do.
Someone hands Blake a beer, and he knocks it back. The pills Milton gave him seem to have kicked in as he isn’t hunched over anymore.
Only Deuce joins us as they head over to a table. I trail behind, hearing Deuce say, “There’s no sign of Jerome yet.”
Blake grunts and sits. Snapping his fingers at me, he points at the seat next to him, and I sit. “He better not stand me up.”
“Word’s gettin’ round that Skylar thinks you’re gonna cause shit,” Deuce adds, not that I know what, or who, they’re discussing.
“Skylar can suck my cock. We all know he likes it,” he grumbles, knocking back another beer.
“Where’s Grady?”
My body tenses at the mention of him, but Blake doesn’t have the same reaction, his expression normal. “How the fuck should I know?”
Deuce frowns. “He said he was riding up with you.”
“Ain’t seen him. You know how he is. Probably already here—face deep in pussy. Get me another beer, and if you see Jerome, send him my way.”
Nodding, Deuce leaves, and once out of earshot, Blake pins me with the deadliest of glares I’ve ever seen him wear. “Next time, why don’t you be more obvious.”
I gasp when he grabs my leg beneath the table and squeezes so hard tears spring to my eyes. “Ow, Blake. Stop—”
“If it weren’t for all these people, I’d bend you over this table and fuck some damn sense into you. Seeing as I can’t, you better start acting like my fucking woman, or you’ll be seeing an early death.”
He lets go of me as Deuce makes his way back over with a round of beers. Just as he sets them on the table, Blake grabs one and lifts it to his mouth as my thigh throbs.
The words, just kill me, almost slip from my lips. I swallow them down and lift my gaze, my eyes locking with Milton’s. I hadn’t noticed his return, and I swear, as he turns to shield his expression from me, that I saw something I never have before—a look of anger toward Blake. I shake off the thought, knowing it’s not true. Nobody cares about me. Especially not Milton.
Chapter Twelve
The woman who greeted me in Milton’s office yesterday enters the room moments after he leaves. I don’t anticipate seeing her. Judging by how she carries herself with importance, she’s not just a secretary like I first thought.
Again, she wears a black,
