It’s second nature.
A role I played well under the most heated of scenarios, and I liked being a starring player.
However, as of late, and thanks to my faked death, I can’t seem to focus on anything but getting the fuck out of hiding and getting back to Bay Astor.
I’m going stir-crazy without being within arm’s reach of her at all times.
You can’t blame me. All I did was see her, protect her, check in on her, and be with her.
However, all that feels like it’s changed since…well, the day I came back, and we fucked.
Then I left.
Like a chump.
With any other girl, a plethora of things could’ve happened.
They’d stalk me.
Call me.
Text me a hundred messages about how much of a prick I was if they managed to get my number. I can’t honestly say how many blocked numbers I have on my phone, but they’re tucked away and never bothered with again.
There’s also the famous “jumping” at races where they’d show up out of nowhere like I wanted round two.
But with Bay, it’s like it never happened. A small dose of the bullshit I’ve handed out over the years to come back and bite me in the ass. She hasn’t mentioned a word about it—not that we’ve had much time—but it leaves me on edge.
Then she gave my Titan seat to Baby Wildes, and I’ve been champing at the bit to forget this whole fucking idea of being dead and just end this shit already.
Which is what I’m here to do.
Matteo De Leon sits within these dilapidated walls, and he’s not going to get out of them.
His journey ends tonight.
With my hands wrapped around his throat and my town given back to me right after I punch the shit out of Torin Wildes.
The kicker, Ramsey Wildes.
Killing two birds with one stone is how I highly anticipated this night to go.
However, the downside is my little ride-or-die sitting in one of my men’s trucks contemplating her next move.
Yanking the door open, Bay’s eyes narrow, telling me she knows exactly who’s behind the mask.
Reaching for the visor—a commonplace to keep keys—I grab them and drop them in her lap. “Drive.”
“No.”
Knew it.
“If you don’t get out of here,” I warn, “then I’m not going to be able to save Boy Wonder and your little husband now, am I?”
Her blue eyes soften a tad. “I can help.”
“You can’t.”
She cranes her head to the passenger seat and points. “There are M-80s in here.”
