Well, shit.
I’m in an awkward position because I don’t know how to comfort her. When I drop next to her on the sofa, I throw an arm around her shoulder. She tries to scoot away, but I’m bigger and stronger and keep her where I want her. I try not to read too much into how her body relaxes against mine. “What you did last night took balls, Kerri. Most people would have panicked in that situation. They’d be the ones in a fucking ditch. You saved your own life. Don’t you dare shed one goddamn tear for the motherfucker who tried to kill you. You understand me?” At her nod, I shift and grip her chin, forcing her to look me dead in the eye. “And why the fuck do you think I hate you?”
“Why?” She gapes at me and releases a sardonic little laugh. “Because whenever we’re together, you act like you’re angry with me.”
“I act like I’m angry with everyone,” I snap. “I’m just a miserable motherfucker.”
Christ, her smile is pretty. “Okay, true.” She hitches in a breath and wraps her hand around my arm, as if I’m her anchor. “But I’m still a murderer.”
“Look at the world, Duchess.” I release her chin and rumble out a grunt. “It’s the Wild West on cocaine. Show me someone who doesn’t have sin on their soul.”
America’s lawlessness made gangs like the Unholy a necessary evil. We maintain structure in a country gone insane. Mayhem became famous for its red-light district and became the wealthiest and most powerful city in Pennsylvania thanks to the steady influx of tourists. The Unholy rose to the top of the food chain. We’re the main reason the state is a well-oiled machine.
The Berserkers and the Order of the Rose respectfully hold Hawley and Falls Creek. Berserkers control the drugs, with the Order in charge of Pennsylvania’s illegal firearms trade. Then there’s the Rizzo family in Addison, who has ties to New Jersey’s mafia. Malice’s uncle, acapowith New York’s Giacomo family, gives us a foothold with both factions.
Crime is a dangerous game of connect the dots.
But there’s only one king per kingdom, and in Pennsylvania, Crow sits on a throne of blood and bones. Even the heads of the other organizations respect his title and bend their knee to him. Damn right they should. Unlike Moody, who preceded him, Crow isn’t quick to go to war. He’s a businessman. Smart. Levelheaded and fair. Our enemies and allies know this, and that’s why, under Crow’s leadership, the Unholy have increased our power and income.
“I feel gross.”
Her broken whisper fucking levels me.
“Sometimes, to survive, you have to be meaner than the monsters trying to kill you.”
She lifts her head, her blue eyes beautiful with unshed tears. “Is that what you are, Havoc, the meaner monster?”
My childhood crashes over me in a tidal wave of brutal memories. The helplessness. The tears and the blood. God, so much blood and pain. I can almost taste it in the air. Thick and bitter. Long and miserable nights spent with Discord, his broken body in my arms. Failing to put him back together in both body and mind. Helplessly watching as he came undone until there was nothing left of him, and in his place grew the psychopath Emmett created.
But Discord wasn’t the only demon born in the muck and misery, and if I’m not careful, I’ll drag Kerri into my darkness.
“Damn right, I’m the meaner monster.”
She resettles against me, soft and warm. “I’m glad I called you.”
The woman is out of her mind. I’m no one’s salvation. When you need to make a person bleed, I’m the person you call. What I’m not—what I shouldn’t be—is Kerri Ward’s phone-a-friend.
I shove her off me. “Unless you want to starve to death, I have to get to the store.”
Her cheeks bloom with color, but she notches her chin. Her dignity is a shield between her and the world. “Of course.” Kerri smooths her hands over the ridiculously oversized white Billabong T-shirt. Despite her height, the material hits her mid-thigh. My eyes go right to all that bare flesh before I force my gaze back to her face. “I’m sorry I delayed you.”
“Always so goddamn polite.” I stomp to the table, grab my billfold wallet, and stuff it in my back pocket. I hook the loop to my belt, with the triple silver chains hanging down my left leg. “Did you add shit to the list?”
She nods, clasping her hands on her lap. “A few things.”
I grab the paper off the counter and give it a scan. She didn’t add much. “What do you like to eat?”
“Anything is fine. I’m not picky.”
“Baloney and cheese it is,” I bark at her.
That earns me a cringe, which I catch in my peripheral.Good. Finally, an honest reaction. She chews her bottom lip between those perfect, white teeth but doesn’t utter a word in protest. “As I said, anything is fine.”
The hell it is. I stalk over to her. Lean down and grip the back of the sofa. Cage her in between my arms. Bring my face to hers until our noses practically touch. “What do you like to eat?” I articulate every word, so there’s no misunderstanding. “This isn’t a goddamn test. It’s a real simple question, Duchess.”
“I’m trying not to be more of a bother than I already am.”
Fuck me. “Thisis a bother. Drag an actual answer out of you to a straightforward question.”
