Page 6 of Blood of Vengeance

“What do we have here?”

I breathed slow and deep, forcing myself not to respond to the way his presence rocked my confidence. Trying my best not to tremble in fear before him. He stared at my lips, something like a growl rumbling in the space between us. Something like heat there, too. The way he looked at me should have been illegal, how he devoured me with his eyes. The man was sex on wheels and—if I had to guess—as dangerous as they came, a deadly combination to a gal’s thought processes.

But I had no time to make bad decisions with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Murderous. I had to find Chiggy.

“My dad’s not answering my calls, so I came to look for him,” I said, keeping my voice calm and neutral. Fighting not to tremble as he ran that intense gaze down my body. “I’m Chiggy’s daughter.”

The man’s light eyes darted to mine, his heated expression slamming closed and switching to a dangerous blankness that chilled me to my bones. “How the fuck could Chiggy have a kid?”

That question, I could handle. “Well, when a man and a woman really like each other?—”

He huffed a startled laugh, his blank expression cracking.

“All right, smartass. I know how fucking works.” He inched closer, throwing a deep shadow over my entire body. “You got proof you’re Chiggy’s?”

I wasn’t prepared for that question, but I knew who my dad’s friends were. Who would remember the days when I’d sat at the bar with a Barbie and a kiddie cocktail. “Is Banger around?”

The guy stared for an extended moment, keeping his eyes locked on mine for far longer than was comfortable. I didn’t look away, though. Didn’t even blink. His expression stayed stonelike, his entire body still. He gave nothing away.

Finally, he opened his mouth. “I might be able to wrangle him up.”

“Then wrangle,” I said, something close to relief settling in my chest. “He’ll vouch for me.”

He didn’t wait this time, just barked a single word. “Prospect.”

The man who’d been watching the door appeared beside me. “Yeah?”

“Watch her. Anyone steps out of line, they’ll be dealing with me.”

I had no idea if his threat applied more to if I stepped out of line or if any of the other brothers did, but I didn’t care because in the next second, he was gone. Disappearing deeper into the bar, hopefully on his trek to find Banger.

“Sit,” the prospect said, moving to stand on the other side of his stool. I did as I’d been told, rising up on the ball of my foot to slide my hip onto the seat before taking a good look around. The club had changed a lot over the years, and yet some things had stayed the same. There were still neon beer signs on the walls and motorcycle parts hanging from the ceiling like some sort of modern art display. Gone were the brown leather bar chairs I remembered sitting and spinning in as a kid, replaced by sleek, black leather stools with chrome legs. The liquor bottles still sat in front of an ancient, dirty mirror, but the bar itself looked new and clean, the shape different from the pictures in my hazy memories. The people had changed, too, the men who had made up this club likely moving on or retiring and getting replaced with younger ones. The women were the same, though—faceless, generic-looking blondes with big tits and wearing almost nothing sitting with random men who looked to care about as much for them as they did their beer. Those women would likely be fucked on the pool table or in a back hallway, used by one and then handed off to the next in line. And they loved it.

At least, they did for a while. My mom had until she’d met Chiggy. She’d loved him hard, desperately wanting to become his old lady and work the bar at the clubhouse. But things hadn’t worked out that way.

I had just spotted Mr. Gravel-Voice with the light-blue eyes that seemed to look right through me, had just gotten yanked out of my memories by the reality of my present once more, when the door burst open. A different man stormed inside—one I remembered—followed by a man with arms the size of tree trunks and a jaw that could cut glass who happened to be wearing sunglasses. At night. Something I didn’t have time to ponder.

“Where’s Cutter?” the man I knew—Mule, a longtime friend of my dad—yelled, pushing past me without even glancing my way. “Where the fuck is Cutter?”

Mr. Gravel-Voice stalked over, looking from me and back to Sunglasses before focusing on Mule. “He’s in the back. What’s up?”

“I think Chiggy’s gone.”

The words landed like a punch, pain exploding from the point of contact.

Mr. Gravel-Voice didn’t react. Didn’t twitch a single muscle at the news. “Not possible.”

“Yeah, it is.” I slipped in beside Mule, looking up into his face. Giving him a sad sort of half smile when recognition lit. Everyone always said I had my dad’s eyes. “I’ve seen his death. That’s why I’m here.”

The world went still, the loud music stopping within a beat as the attention of every nonhuman in the room turned our way.

Mr. Gravel-Voice spoke first. “What do you mean, you’ve seen it?”

I shrugged, suddenly fighting the urge to cry. Grief growing dark and heavy within me, tendrils of pure sadness slipping between my bones. “I kept seeing him die in my dreams. My nightmares wouldn’t let me be, so I came to check. To see who killed him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sunglasses grabbed my arm and yanked me almost off my feet, looking ready to fight. Ready to shift. “What did you do to Chiggy?”

Mr. Gravel-Voice growled low and deep, shoving his big body between us. Pushing me back and wrapping one arm around my waist from behind as he practically snarled at the other man. His touch sent flames shooting through my chest, but I didn’t have time to figure out what that meant because his snarl turned into a deep, threatening growl as he took one single step closer to Sunglasses.

---