“Hey,” Pike says as he strokes the top of her shoulder with his fingers. “I had no idea my dad was into bad shit.”
“He wasn’t just into bad shit—he almost killed me with his bare hands,” she argues.
My eyes widen in shock.
“I saved you, darlin’. I’d never let anyone hurt you, not even my father,” he says to her before brushing his lips against her temple.
“We’ve all been traumatized by the men in our lives,” Betty says with a sigh. “Tino brought more shit into our lives than I care to remember or can even explain in detail…”
“Wylder never traumatized me,” Tate replies to Betty before she can finish her statement.
“The ex-wife,” Betty says with a pointed glare.
Wylder lifts a hand and dips his chin. “I can’t control that crazy-ass woman.”
“Is she still a problem?” Betty asks him and not her granddaughter.
“She’s been dealt with and is no longer an issue.”
I want to ask what that means because it sounds more sinister than it probably is—at least, I hope so.
“She’s completely out of the picture.” Tate smiles at her grandmother. “For good.”
Tino’s chair scrapes against the hardwood as he pushes it back. “I’m going to steal Brax and Iris to talk about what’s going to happen tonight,” he announces to the table.
“Be quick,” Betty tells him.
“Woman, it’ll take as long as it takes,” he says as he swats her ass playfully, earning himself a glarethat’s so intense it would make me wither. “Ten minutes, tops.”
“Fine,” she says.
Brax rises and I follow, leaving the warm company of the dining room to figure out how we’re going to get rid of Malakai and keep me breathing.
I’m not ready to die.
I want more of whatever tonight was for as long as I can possibly have it.
13
BRAX
The Irish pubis more crowded than I expected. I figured since it was a notorious criminal’s favorite spot, it would be a little more desolate.
Iris is clutching my hand tightly like she might float away if she loosens her grip. “We’re okay,” she says to herself, repeating the phrase for the tenth time since we climbed out of my truck.
My gramps gives us an easy smile over his shoulder as we follow him and one of Malakai’s lackeys through the mass of people and chairs.
“We’re okay,” she says again with big eyes, and she’s breathing so hard, I worry she’s going to faint.
“Hey,” I squeeze her hand, breaking the cycle she’s been in for the last few minutes. “I promise it’s almost over. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Iris nods, but the look of panic doesn’t leave herface. “Okay,” she mouths, her voice too soft to hear over the chatter around us.
My grandfather moves through the space with ease, wearing one of his best suits. When he strolled out of his bedroom in the outfit, he said, “A man doesn’t go to talk to someone like Malakai about life and death dressed like a bum.”
I wasn’t about to argue with him. He has more experience in this world than I do, especially with men like Malakai.
As we move deeper into the bar, I use my hand to instinctively place Iris behind me, shielding her from any unforeseen issue.
