“Unfortunately.” It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen her, but looking into her eyes, I still know her as well as I did back then.
Playing the good girl when deep inside there’s always been this other part of her desperate to get out.
She schools her expression, trying to act unaffected, and that’s fine. She can play this however she wants; I’ve always seen right through her.
Willa scans the club, probably unimpressed with my lifestyle but not surprised. She always had a shit view of me compared to how she saw my perfect brother, up on his pedestal. This simply reinforces everything she’s ever thought about me.
She stops at Aimee’s side, offering her a forced smile and probably thinking Aimee is my girl, even as Havoc watches us from across the room.
I forgot how tiny Willa is because her confidence fills every room she enters. But we’re eye to eye, and I’m still sitting on the barstool.
Willa scans the room a final time before her beautiful eyes land on me. “Hello, Dean.”
“You know only my mother called me that, Willa.”
While most members of the club got their road names when they patched in, I had mine long before I ever prospected the club. In my hometown, they nicknamed me Chaos for all the shit I pulled, and Willa knows it.
Only one person didn’t see me that way, and that was my mother, God rest her soul.
Willa hums, narrowing her eyes. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough.”
Her eyebrow hitches, but it’s not in irritation. Willa Elliott is one of the only people in my life who was never put off by the shit that came out of my mouth.
“How’s my brother?” I ask, even if it has my teeth grinding.
“Wouldn’t know, we broke up.”
I swear the music cuts off in the club. But that wouldn’t make sense because the girls are still dancing and people are talking all around us. Still, I don’t hear anything except what she said.
They broke up.
“So you aren’t here to do his dirty work?”
Willa smiles, but it’s all venom. She reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope, handing it to me.
“Nope. We’ve had our differences, but in this case, I’m unfortunately on your side. I’m here to say give him hell.”
At that, she spins so fast her skirt fans out, teasing me with a hint of her fishnet-covered ass, and I don’t doubt she knows it.
Willa Elliott is trouble. And I’m the masochist who fucking loves it.
2
Willa
I will not thinkabout Dean Graham.
I will not think about Dean Graham.
Twelve years ago, I told myself this same mantra. It didn’t work then, so I don’t know why I expect it to now. But damn it, I refuse to let him burrow back under my skin. Especially after seeing the man he grew into, fully embracing the nickname that made him infamous in our small Texas town.
Chaos.
There’s no better word to describe a man who wreaks havoc on everything he comes into contact with—my heart included.
Not that I handled his any better.
