“I heard.”
“Sorry.”
“Who’s your friend?”
The blindfold falls away from my eyes. I’m glad that the first thing I see as my eyes start prickling and tearing up from the blinding light is Zebulon and not some bleeding corpse or anything similarly horrifying. Sweat nearly drips into my eyeswithout the blindfold in the way and I don’t look away from Zeb as he wipes my face off with the fabric.
He didn’t tell mehowhe wanted me to handle this Ruger fellow.
“Her name is Janelle. She’s a good girl I met out in Boston.”
“The way Zayna’s a good girl or is she a hooker of some kind?”
“Talk that way again and I’ll kick your ass, Ruger.”
“Doubt you could do that,” Ruger says calmly. “But I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“She’s not a fucking hooker,” Zebulon says, returning Ruger’s calm with far more obvious bitterness edging his tone.
“I never said she was.”
“But what you’re saying is she looks like she could be one.”
“There are high class hookers out in Boston, I imagine.”
“I need a beer and she needs some rest and ibuprofen from your goddamn blindfold instructions.”
I never told him I had a headache. I wonder if I’m just tearing up looking stupid and that’s why he can tell, or if there’s some other reason. I glare at Zeb, lowkey blaming him for all my problems here. I also make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder and seeing what the hell this Ruger character looks like for the first time.
My heart nearly falls out of my ass. He’s the type of horrifying specimen of white man I would snap a picture of with my phone in public just to prove to myself I really saw him. He’s taller than Zebulon, which doesn’t even feel realistic. While he’s not as attractive, I see similarities between the two of them. Eye color. Skin tone. Ruger has a more hardened face, whereas Zebulon has fuller lips and a jawline that makes him look more like a young Brad Pitt.
His nose is a little less pronounced than Ruger’s too, but I’m guessing they’re blood relatives, either brothers, cousins or something like that. I hope to God Ruger isn’t his father somehow.
Ruger addresses me directly once he catches my gaze and a mixture of fear and politeness forces me to turn around and address him directly.
“My name is Ruger Blackwood. The crooked biker you hooked up with over here is my first cousin. My wife Zayna is inside and… I think the two of you will get along. Welcome.”
His voice still sounds flat, like he’s reading from a script. Even if I don’t outwardlyfeelscared, gooseflesh still breaks out over my arms and the back of my neck. Without having any evidence, I have a strange intuitive sense that this man has killed before and liked it. He’s not right in the head. I fight the urge to hide behind Zebulon.I’m a killer too.
“I’m Janelle.”
Ruger smiles, but his eyes stay the same. Flat. Empty.
“Janelle. Nice to meet you.”
I feel Zeb’s arm curling around my waist and then resting possessively on my hips. My body tenses with frustration. He hasn’t laid hands on me since that incident in the shower. It’s notlike I’m disappointed about some crazy ass biker not dragging me off to bed after a murder spree but after all the places he put his tongue, I thought he would dosomethingelse. Instead, he acts like we’re coworkers. Until now.
Is he jealous in Ruger’s presence? Somehow insecure? Maybe Ruger really is just that dangerous. Zeb pulls me closer to him.
“Where’s Eden?” Zeb asks him calmly, although his grip on me is more aggressive than calm.
“Inside. You can loosen up, Zeb. I’m fully prepared to accommodate you and get you two settled in until Deacon finishes up with work.”
I look around, soaking up as much visual information as I can despite myself. Being blindfolded for this long makes me desperate to ground myself. We’re somewhere with a surprising amount of vegetation for being in this part of Oklahoma. I think we must be near a river somewhere, but I don’t know enough geography to say where that might put us, just that there’s the strong scent of fresh water, the faint sound of water flowing, and enough vegetation that we can’t be out in the desert. It’s still hot here, which I don’t love.
“We have air conditioning inside,” Ruger says. “Zayna hates when I stand out in the sun and I don’t want another lecture.”
He addresses his next comment directly to Zeb. “She can’t be there when we discuss club business. I hope you know that.”
