I spare him a cutting glare and then push her door wide before turning to look at what lies beyond.
It’s everything I expected her to be and plenty that I never could have guessed.
The decor is dark yet feminine: black sheets and a floral bedspread, flower-shaped cushions in deep reds and purples, sheer black curtains held back with cheap hooks adorned withleaves. Yet there’s a pair of steel-toe boots in the corner, a worn and ripped canvas backpack covered in scribbles and crudely copied logos. A stack of well-loved books teeters against the wall like a drunken shadow, leaning toward the space behind the door.
It’s girly, and yet rough.
And it’s empty.
“Satisfied?” Flinch calls behind me.
Frustration boils beneath my skin, bubbling across my taut muscles.If she’s not here, then where the fuck did she go?“Let me guess,” I sass, spinning on the soulless mongrel. “She popped out to get you two some milk.”
His gaze drops the length of me. “Who said she’d be back?”
“Where. Did she go?” I grind out.
Footsteps sound at the rear of the house, snapping Flinch’s head around.
Yet, he doesn’t call out. Doesn’t immediately go to investigate. There’s no shock, only the confusion of a man who doesn’t know if it’s friend or foe.
The person whose truck sits outside, or Circus.
I shoulder past the fuck and head toward the source of the noise. Turns out it’s both: Circusandthe person who owns the truck.
“Who the fuck is she?” I ask Flinch, spinning back toward him.
Circus restrains the busty brunette in the entryway with nothing more than his hand holding hers like they’re two old friends. Her wide eyes shoot to Flinch as though warning him not to say a thing.
I draw a weapon and point it at her head, focus fixed on Jenna’s dad. “I asked, who is she?”
He sighs, rolling his lips in exasperation. “Not who you’re looking for.” He shuffles toward the living room.
I draw my other gun and train it on him. “Don’t.”
He slowly raises both hands, yet his gaze wanders to hers. There’s a silent fucking conversation going on that I’m not privy to, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.
I wave the end of the weapon pointed at him. “Turn around.”
The woman lets slip the tail end of a suppressed whimper.Let her think I intend to execute the fucker.
Flinch slowly spins, arms still up at his sides. “Think real careful about what you do next, Fang.”
How the fuck does this cunt know who I am?
“You don’t want to go shooting the wrong person.”
“Like the Breed give a fuck about what happens to you anymore.” I press the muzzle to the back of his head to make my point.
He huffs, amused. “I wasn’t talking about me.”
Both Circus and I whip our heads toward the woman in his hold.
“Name,” I bark, moving the gun pointed toward her closer.
She eyes the brushed metal, and wets her lips.
“Don’t tell them,” Flinch warns.
