Page 54 of New Orleans Collection

Roch nods like a fucking bobble head doll and part of me feels badly for making him so afraid he’s on the verge of pissing himself. Another part of me relishes his fear, soaking it up and cackling like a demon because it gives me a feeling of victory.

I could use a moment of victory.

When Roch shifts, something in my gut twists and I barely stop myself from gripping his hair and reminding him who is in charge here. Instead, I bark, “Spit it out, Roch. I don’t have all fucking day to dance with you.”

He swallows hard and his eyes dart around again, like he expects someone to pop out of nowhere. His voice drops so low I almost can’t hear him, “Word on the street is that you and your brothers spent the night with a certain club princess.”

My body goes rigid, and I glare at him. He shrinks in on himself, but it doesn’t make the urge to kill him go away.

I don’t confirm or deny his information. I’ll never deny my feelings for Fleur again, but I sure as fuck am not going to admit to someone like Roch about how I spend my time. “And?”

Roch shrugs one shoulder. “Word is she’s even more untouchable because of it.” I nod and cross my arms across my chest, feeling my muscles bunch with the need to turn my annoyance and rage into physical hurt. It wouldn’t do me much good in terms of Roch and I know it. “Still, someone has been asking about her.”

I growl, barely stopping myself from roaring at the sniveling weasel in front of me, “Someone?”

He nods slowly, fear entering his gaze the longer he looks at me. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out I’m frothing at the fucking mouth with the information Roch is giving me. Feral doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling.

I try and relax my shoulders, but it doesn’t work. I can feel the tension mounting and I’m pretty sure the back alley where I meet up with my little rat won’t be able to contain me when it breaks.

I should have tied her to the fucking bed. Then she wouldn’t have been able to get away from us.

“Who?” I prod him, hoping I sound less unhinged, but I fail. Miserably.

“Don’t have a name,” Roch’s voice is gentle and soft as if he knows he’s about to be slaughtered and is hoping to talk his way out of it first. He’s lucky I need him to keep his ear to the ground or else I might strongly consider it. “Just know he’s a little obsessed with her. Saw her and wanted her but couldn’t get his hands on her. From what I heard, he was pushed in her direction. Meeting her was not by chance.”

I force myself to focus on Roch’s words and look into the man’s eyes. His first loyalty might be to himself, always, but I also know he’s telling me this for a reason. I have to take it seriously, which I would do no matter what, where Fleur is concerned.

I hiss, “Martinez?”

Roch’s head drops, the frustration evident in the way he’s holding himself. I’m sure it’s not helping that fury is rolling off me in waves. I’m barely stopping myself from going on a killing rampage and that is far more Rocco’s style than my own.

My poor baby brother has been beside himself for days. He seemed to be hit the hardest when we woke up in Room Eight to find Fleur gone. I wasn’t surprised considering the history between us and her independent streak. I was disappointed though.

Rocco’s barely spoken or eaten in the days since it happened, and I have a feeling he spends most of his time looking at the tracker app he has telling him where the necklace he gave her is. I don’t know if she figured out that’s how he found her or not, but there hasn’t been a lot of movement to report on his end.

I can only hope she still has it on.

If she does, she’s stayed at her house for the most part. She’s gone out, but only to places like the clubhouse, where we would expect her to go considering the DSMC is in her blood, and the store. The tracker sure as fuck hasn’t shown her going back to Club Sin.

Which is a fucking relief.

“Don’t know if it was Martinez or not, but everyone knows the club princess and your sister are best friends,” Roch tiptoes around his answer and I can’t blame the man.

“They should both be untouchable.”

Roch nods slowly. “Your sister is. The Falsini triplets are crazy fucks. Between them and your family, no one who doesn’t have a death wish will touch her.”

Relief fills me, but it’s short lived. Fleur should be given the same protection. She might not be willing to acknowledge it, she might even want to run from us, but she is ours.

Our woman.

Ours to protect.

Ours to love.

Ours to spank when we get our hands on her because I’ve been barely functioning.

I shake my head and barely stop myself from chuckling. I’m the one who is supposed to not be bothered by the things people do. I’m supposed to be able to laugh it all off with humor.

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