I hesitate, feeling a thrilling rush of danger. Their attention is flattering. Simpler and more straightforward than the complicated feelings Havoc stirs in me.
On impulse, I glance across the yard. Sure enough, Havoc’s eyes are locked on our little group, his body tense despite the blonde still clinging to his arm. The sweetbutt is talking, but he’s not listening—he’s watching me with those intense blue eyes.
Something reckless unfurls inside me. Two can play at this game.
“Actually, yes,” I say, meeting Wyatt’s gaze. “I could use that help now. Those boxes are too heavy for me to move alone.”
Diesel snorts into his cup. “You boys behave yourselves,” he warns, but there’s amusement in his tone.
“Always do,” Wyatt says, standing and brushing off his jeans.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Kade adds, joining him.
“I’m sure you will.” Diesel’s eyes flick toward Havoc, who’s now staring openly, the blonde forgotten.
I turn away, leading the prospects toward the clubhouse. The weight of Havoc’s gaze burns between my shoulder blades as we walk. Good. Let him watch. Let him wonder.
“So, what kind of boxes are we moving?” Wyatt asks as we enter the building.
“My mother’s things,” I state simply.
Kade nods earnestly. “Happy to help. Whatever you need.”
From their expressions, I can tell they’d expected something more exciting than actual box moving. But they follow me down the hall anyway, the opportunity to spend time alone with me apparently worth the manual labor.
As soon as my bedroom door closes behind us, a wave of uncertainty washes over me. This was supposed to be a harmlessway to make Havoc notice me, but now I’m acutely aware of how vulnerable I am alone with two men I barely know.
Kade’s eyes drift over my body, lingering a second too long. There’s hunger in that look—not threatening, but unmistakable. I take a small step back, crossing my arms over my chest.
“So, these are the boxes?” Wyatt asks, pointing to the stack in the corner. His voice sounds louder in the confined space.
“Yes,” I reply, grateful for the distraction. “I need the heaviest ones moved against that wall so I can sort through them better.”
They get to work immediately. Kade lifts a box labeled “Savannah’s photos,” muscles straining under his T-shirt. Wyatt grabs another, and they work efficiently, moving between the door and the corner.
I’m about to thank them when the door flies open with such force it bangs against the wall. Havoc fills the doorframe, his broad shoulders tense, jaw locked tight. His blue eyes scan the room, taking in the prospects and me standing awkwardly between them.
“What the fuck are you two doing in here?” His voice is pure thunder, a dangerous growl that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Kade immediately drops the box he’s holding, nearly spilling its contents. “Sir, we were just?—”
“I asked them to help me move these boxes,” I interrupt, stepping forward. “They’re my mother’s things, and some are too heavy for me.”
Havoc’s gaze lands on me, intense and unreadable. “I could have done that for you.”
“You seemed busy,” I say, chin lifting slightly, remembering the blonde hanging on his arm.
His jaw tightens even more. “Get out,” he tells the prospects without looking at them. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” they mumble in unison.
Wyatt practically dives for the door. Kade follows but pauses next to me, his voice a quiet murmur. “If you need anything else?—”
“She won’t,” Havoc cuts in. “Out.”
The prospects vanish, leaving me alone with Havoc’s thunderous presence and the scent of leather and cedar that follows him everywhere.
The door closes with a decisive click, leaving us alone. The room feels smaller with just Havoc in it, his presence filling every corner. He stalks toward me, each step deliberate, until he’s close enough that I have to tilt my head to meet his gaze.
