Page 5 of Flames of Ruin

Slapping her arm, I attempt to stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

Interrupting our conversation, Sandy walks over, “If you broads were smart, you wouldn’t be dangling yourselves in front of a man like him.”

She nods in the direction of the storm cloud in the corner booth.

“Oh, he’s harmless.” Miranda waves her off. “We’re just having a little fun.”

“Yeah, well, maybe do it tomorrow night.” She sighs. “As much as I hate these rich idiots, they pay my bills. And he’s just grieving the loss of his father. Tonight’s the thirteenth anniversary.”

Hearing the word ‘anniversary’ causes my breath to hitch in my throat. I always think of a positive event when I hear the word, not the night my world came crumbling down.

“He lost his parents that night too?”

“Just his father.” She looks at me. “Do you not know who that is?”

Shaking my head, I peer back over at him, studying him while Sandy drones on about the man in the booth. He is sitting with one leg out of the booth, his foot resting on the ground. He’s hunched over his drink. The fabric of his black Armani suit is fighting to stretch across his broad shoulders. His cigar burns to ash in the small round tray, as he sits with his head in his hands.

As if he can feel my gaze burning a hole through him even from across the bar, our eyes lock and I see something more than anger and agitation.

Something that raises questions in my mind, despite how big of an asshole he appears to be.

I see a man filled with sadness and torment.

Chapter three

Drake

Her face has haunted me for the last thirteen years. A constant reminder floating through my head of the destruction I couldn’t stop.

Across the bar, her eyes pierce through me like a jagged knife digging its way into my heart.

If only she knew the secrets I was keeping, she wouldn’t be staring at me like that.

Wanting. Waiting.

As though I could save her from the same heartbreak we both are running from.

I pull my stare away from hers for a moment. My eyes scan the bar, noticing the usual occupants. The lowlife criminals of Raventown. They think I am one of them.

Craigen, the bar owner, nods at me nervously as he wipes down a glass. Being the owner of his building, I know he already paid his rent for the month.

He’s in my good graces. For now.

“Yeah, that’s how you get the ladies. Go all macho on her ass.”

An irritating voice behind me penetrates my thoughts and I turn my gaze to what looks to be a mid-thirties man dressed up like he is the star of some spy kids’ movie. He is wearing a black hoodie and khaki pants, with a black gun holster strapped to his thigh. I notice it’s empty.

“You must be trying to get yourself killed dressed like that.”

Ignoring my comment, he continues to grace me with his annoying presence.

“You’re Drake Reign, Dante Reign’s infamous heir. What brings you out to bless the poor citizens of Raventown with your presence?”

“You must’ve not done your homework, kid. I own this town.”

He scoffs, “Just like every other smug bastard in this place.”

While crushing what is left of my cigar in the ashtray, a muscle in my jaw flexes. “I suggest you walk away if you don’t want to catch a bullet between your eyes. I’d hate to ruin that handsome face of yours.”

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