“What the fuck was that about?” I mumble under my breath.
I continue standing in the middle of the room, shocked and a little unsure of what just happened. Sin’s mood swings are starting to really fucking piss me off. But I can’t take that on. His club was just attacked, and he is under a lot of pressure.
But maybe his mood swings are part of the reason I can’t find information on my brother.
Maybe Sin’s swings are the reason my brotherisdead.
Maybe Sindidkill Marcus?
A shudder runs down my spine as I peer across the clubhouse at Sin while he talks to Ghost. The thought that Marcus’ last moments could have been at the hands of Sin ripples through me like a tidal wave, and a wave of nausea rolls over me.
I wish I had spent more time with my brother. I wish I were here to help guide him onto a better path. One that didn’t lead him onto the road with Las Vegas Defiance MC. But wishing never got you anywhere.
As I take a seat in the main room, Ro quietly brings me over a drink, and I smile at her, neither of us saying anything. Then, true to Sin’s word, within an hour, I find myself in a small but comfortable guest room, wearing one of Gia’s oversized T-shirts and a pair of her yoga pants. The shirt smells like her perfume,something light and floral that’s soothing after the harsh smoke smell that’s been clinging to me all day.
After a long, soothing shower, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to process everything that’s happened, when there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” I call out.
My eyes widen in surprise when Sin enters, closing the door behind him. The door clicks and Sin fills the frame, big and quiet, then crosses the room with a slow, deliberate tread, and sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him. For a beat, he just looks at me, like he’s weighing the air between us.
My chest rises and falls with the quick rate of my breathing as I stare at him, waiting for one of us to be the first to speak.
“You pissed me off earlier,” he says finally, voice low and edged. “Not because you did what you did, but because you did it my way. You put yourself in the line of fire, and I don’t do well with that.” He tips his chin, his eyes hard. “I am not good at speeches, Elizabeth. Iamgood at keeping people alive. If keeping you breathing looks like being an ass, then fine. I’ll be an ass.”
I open my mouth, but he holds up a hand, not soft, not asking. “This isnotabout control,” he goes on, each word deliberate. “This is about the men I call family, and the people I care about. When someone I care about chooses recklessness, it makes me stupid. It makes me hot-headed. I don’t like what that does to me. So, I’ll come back here, and I’ll put a fence around you, because if I don’t, I could do something worse than be annoyed. I could lose you.”
There’s no apology on his face.
There’s an honesty that lands harder than one.
Then, softer, only for a second, “You staying here tonight isnota suggestion. It’s an order.”
He watches me, waiting for me to argue, to refuse. When I don’t and simply nod in reply, his mouth twitches like a storm passing. “Good,” he says, almost a relief. “Tomorrow, we figure the rest out. For now, you sleep. I’ll make sure no one walks through that door until you wake up.” He looks different somehow, less guarded, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close he is. “Now… how are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low, carrying a gravel that makes my skin prickle.
“Tired,” I admit. “Overwhelmed. Today was… well, a lot.”
He nods once, eyes sharp, unwavering. “You handled it better than half my men. The way you threw yourself in, no hesitation. Fuck! Elizabeth! Most people would’ve bolted.”
“I’m not most people,” I whisper.
His mouth curves, not a smile, but something darker. “No. You’re not. You’ve got more fire than you know what to do with.”
The silence between us hums with tension until I force the question that’s been gnawing at me. “Why have you been so distant since our bike ride?”
Chapter Twelve
ELIZABETH
His jaw flexes, a muscle ticking, like he’s holding something back.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, dangerous.“Because I’ve had shit to handle. And because if I let myself get too close to you, I won’t be able to stop. And that’s a line I told myself I wouldn’t cross.”
“What line?” I push.
His eyes ignite, hunger darkening them to something feral. “The one that keeps you safe from me. From the way I want you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be safe from you.”
