Her eyes drop, and I get the feeling I’m about to be lied to, but when she looks up again, defiance replaces deceit. My dick twitches, loving a woman who challenges me.
“I just turned eighteen.” The dare in her tone begs me to contradict her, but the truth is, I believe her. She’s fucking young, but my dick shouts that she’s legal, so fuck everything else.
Hearing movement behind me, I turn my head to catch Priest coming from around the side of the building with a staggering Trista at his side. He’s holding her upright by her bicep. She’s fucking trashed, and she can be a bitch when she’s like this.
“I don’t have a sister,” she slurs, wobbling next to me in sky-high heels. I’ll never understand how women wear those.
Logan cringes, and I spot the watery eyes before she speaks. “We haven’t seen each other since I was four.” She turns her head and wipes her face with her shirt sleeve before speaking again. “Since our father died.”
Trista sobers slightly at that. “Fuck off,” she snaps.
“What the fuck is happening here?” Priest mutters next to me, his eyes glued to the newcomer.
Glancing down, I notice his dick growing tight in his pants too. Fuck me. It’s been a long fucking time since we’ve been attracted to the same woman, and of course, she’s young and comes with a world of trouble.
“Long-lost sister problems?” My smart-ass remark earns an elbow from Trista, who continues to glare at Logan.
“My sister is dead,” Trista accuses, and Logan’s face flashes with hurt.
“I’m not. I’m here, and I need help.” Trista scoffs, and Logan looks torn.
“Fuck, this is dumb,” Priest mutters before moving to the panel to open the gate. “She’s slogged, so how about you come on in, and the two of you can talk in the morning.”
Logan doesn’t trust his word and hesitates. He tries again. “Come on, sprite, you look ready to drop.” And he’s not kidding; whatever has happened recently finally catches up to her, and she looks drained.
“I don’t…uhm. I should go.” She turns to leave, but her defeated sigh is what moves me so fast that Trista drops to the ground without me holding her up.
“I don’t think so,” I say, gripping Logan’s elbow, and I’m taken aback when she half drops and uses her other hand to protect herself before realizing I’m not about to hit her. “Someone fucked you up, huh?” She doesn’t answer because it’s obvious.
“Haven’t seen that kind of reaction in a minute,” Priest mutters, taking her backpack off and placing a guiding hand on the small of her back. Our eyes meet over her head, and I already know we think the same thing. We both react differently to this girl.
Trista gets to her feet with the help of one of the prospects, while the other shuts the gate and follows us inside.
“I really don’t think I should be here,” Logan argues.
“Too late. Gates locked you in now.” Priest seems a little too happy about that.
I sit her on one of the couches, and Trista scrapes back a chair at one of the tables, throwing nasty looks at Logan like the girl is her competition. “She should leave. My sister is dead. She died with my dad and her mom.”
Logan’s eyes flare with shock and hurt. “Is that what your mom told you?”
I get the feeling there’s more going on here than any of us realize, and Logan has the answers.
“Duh.” Trista rolls her eyes, and I want to smack her. I’m sick of the childish antics. “Logan was too mangled to even see.” Tears spring to her eyes now, a rare show of emotion from the woman I’ve known for years.
“This was a bad idea,” Logan mutters to herself and pulls out a phone to make a call. “Hi…John? It’s Logan Callahan. I think you got the info wrong.” I can only hear her because I’m so close, and I don’t like her calling another man for help. “Yeah, could you? Great, I’ll see if someone will open the gate for me.” There’s a pause. She looks up, her eyes meeting mine, then Priest’s, before she says, “No, I don’t think I am,” and hangs up.
“Don’t think you are what?” I narrow my eyes, wanting nothing more than to snatch her phone and crush it in my palm so she can’t talk to that asshole again.
“Holding me against my will.” Her words waver with emotion, and I get the feeling she’s experienced that before.
Sighing, I scrub a hand up and down my face, say fuck it, and leave, giving the prospects instructions to make sure she’s picked up before they lock the gate again. Priest takes my lead and follows me out back, where we each grab a bottle of beer and drop into a chair by the fire.
Fuck women.
Chapter 3
Priest
