Page 99 of Blood of Vengeance

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He leaned closer, still on his bike. Light eyes locking on mine. “I said I’ve got you, which means I’ve got you. It’s safest for you to park here, so drive that car in, find a well-lit spot, then get your ass inside to Zella.”

Using Zella against me wasn’t fair, but I was tired of arguing. Really, I was just plain tired. Working, taking care of Zella, and avoiding his calls while missing him so desperately had consumed me for the weeks we’d been apart. As had the loneliness of not having him with me. I had made the mess and forced myself to suffer while wallowing in it, but Flinch had just shown me a way out of my misery. He’d made a move—a huge one—by showing up in Detroit. The least I could do was see how his plan played out.

I did as I’d been told. I found an empty spot under a light and parked, locking the door behind me when I left the car. I headed straight for Flinch, who now stood beside his bike. Another bike had rolled up, the three machines blocking the drive into the lot. I recognized Kaija on one of them, the pretty blonde throwing a smile my way as my eyes met hers. But none of them mattered—I needed to deal with Flinch.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, stopping a good five feet from him. Keeping space between us so I didn’t do something stupid like fall right into his arms and cry on his shoulder. That would be bad.

He shrugged, completely casual. “You told me to do what makes me happy, and taking care of you is the only thing that makes me happy. So, I’m here.”

My brain stuttered, the words from our last conversation—the only one I had allowed us to have not over text—running through my mind. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Too fucking bad. It’s what you said.”

His smugness irritated me more than anything else. I couldn’t even find my words, couldn’t figure out how to vocalize my emotions past my anger and irritation. Once again, the man had ignored my wishes and did just what he wanted. No consideration for anyone else. No including me in the decisions being made that affected me. I hated him for it.

Or at least, I wanted to hate him for it.

Because truth be told, I had never been so glad to see someone. Not ever. I had meant what I said—I wanted him happy. I just hadn’t been prepared for what made him happy to be me. But I was so glad for it.

And somehow, he knew that.

“Go inside, short stack,” Flinch said, his voice a low rumble of pure care and concern. His tone one that made me want to curl up in his arms and bask in the warmth and safety he provided. His eyes darkened as they ran up and down my body, his jaw tightening as if working to hold something back. “You’re safe. We’ll make sure of it.”

We. It was the we that broke through and reminded me we weren’t alone. I glanced past him at the bikes lined up, pursing my lips. “You called in backup?”

“Yes.” He shrugged one shoulder, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve got a precious commodity to keep an eye on. Backup is required.”

I sighed. “Flinch?—”

“Inside. It’s late, and I know you just left work.” He reached out and touched my hand. A light brushing of his fingers against mine that somehow took a gigantic weight off my shoulders and set the world to rights once more. “Go rest—we can talk tomorrow.”

I didn’t want to listen, but I knew he was right. I was too tired for the conversation we needed to have and too shocked at his sudden appearance to make sense of my emotions. I needed time to process—more than just overnight. “Not tomorrow, but I’ll call you once I…”

Figure things out. Know how I feel. Am ready to give in.

“Go,” he said, his voice strong but tinged in sadness. As if he could hear my inner monologue of confusion. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready for me.”

So I went. Only turning around once to make sure he was actually there and this night hadn’t been some sort of fever dream. Shivering as I felt his gaze on me before I disappeared into the building.

Thirty-Four

Flinch

The Feral Breed clubhouse in Detroit was a hell of a lot different from the Hellions one. First off, there were women there. Not club pussy—mates. More than a handful of them. There were also children running around. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Are all the standard Feral Breed clubhouses like this?”

Rebel looked around, frowning. “Like what?”

That would be a no. “The women. The kids.”

“You don’t have women in your clubhouse?”

“Club pussy, sure. Staff, definitely. Not mates.”

“Too bad. It’s a lot of fun watching mated pairs navigate club life.” He took a sip of his beer, sitting deeper in his chair and offering me a smile. “How’s your mate doing?”

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