CHAPTER TWELVE
Brick
Ifucked anotherbrother’s old lady. Something I’ve never done before. I rake my fingers through my hair, frustrated she withheld the truth. “Alive, dead, doesn’t matter, Starlet. You know the rules.”
“No,” she says meeting my gaze. “I don’t. No one ever gave me a choice. The tat on my shoulder didn’t go on easy, Brick. It took five grown men to hold me down, one of them force feeding me a bottle of whiskey. Don’t you dare judge me for something you don’t know anything about.”
I laugh. “Too little, too late,” I say. “But I’m willing to give you a chance to explain before I decide what to do.”
“Fine.” She walks across the room and opens a door. “My office.”
I follow her inside. There’s a couple candles burning and a lamp covered with a silk scarf. The walls are decorated with colorful tapestries of the sun, moon, and stars. There’s a table and four chairs and a leather sofa along the far wall. I squint to read the titles of the books crammed together on a single shelf—several about meditation and tarot cards. I gaze back at Starlet.
“You believe in all of this?”
She frowns at me. “I believe in fate. A higher power. And letting people live the lives they want. Are you going to sit down? I can’t concentrate with you standing over me like that.”
Whatever it takes to get her talking. Right now, I should call my prez and tell him what’s going on. I pull out one of the chairs at the table and sit. “Where’s home?”
“Alabama.”
“The Devil’s Crusaders have a charter in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, I know. I was born and raised in Holly Beach, I have family here, but never had anything to do with the Louisiana club.”
“And Juanita?”
“Ex old lady, too.”
Doesn’t surprise me, that bitch is tough as nails. “Why’d you leave Alabama?”
Starlet walks across the room and opens a mini fridge and pulls out two beers. “Want one?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I take pop the cap off. “Answer my question.”
“Are you really going to sit here all night and interrogate me like a cop? I don’t owe you anything.”
I take a long drink. “Bullshit. Sit down, Starlet.”
She shakes her head and studies my face. “I liked you.”
“I know.”
“Arrogant bastard.”
“Yep.”
She chooses a spot on the sofa. “My father founded the Devil’s Crusaders.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I didn’t choose the life, Brick, I was born into it.”
That explains the DC royalty ink. She hasn’t told me anything that makes me want to help her. So daddy is hard core and she can’t handle it. “Cry me a fucking river.”
“I’m fresh out of tears,” she says. “And fresh out of patience if you’re going to talk down to me. If you have something you need to do, do it.” She stands, ready to challenge me.
“Sit down, Starlet,” I growl.
