Page 14 of Blaze

The man clasps his hands together in front of himself. “You’ve had a lot of people worried about you, Mrs. Pastori.”

Next to me, Blaze stiffens. I grit my teeth, refusing to let tears form.

The sorry excuse for a man continues. “I’ve been sent to collect you and your vehicle and return you to your familia. So, why don’t you be a good little girl and come without a fight, and we’ll leave these fine people to their party.”

Tremors hit my legs. I grab Blaze’s hand and cling tight. After a second, his hand wraps around mine, possessively.

“She doesn’t want to go,” Blaze answers for me, and his president looks at him for a long moment and then to me.

I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy, and plead silently with the harsh-looking biker president. Is he a demon, too? Are they all demons? It doesn’t matter, I realize in that moment. I’d rather take my chances with a demon motorcycle club than go anywhere with those three men.

Reaper is as tall as Blaze, with olive skin and harsh stubble on his strong jaw. He’s attractive, in a terrifying way. He looks like he could take on an entire mafia family by himself and come out victorious, and while his impressive muscles are a part of that, it’s his eyes that turn the air around him to frost. His eyes are a black void, and it’s not just the lighting. Blaze’s name makes sense, with the fire in his eyes. That connection gives me a theory about Reaper’s name.

Whatever Reaper is thinking, I can’t tell, but he looks back at the three interlopers without his expression changing.

I decide to call creapy, nasty, make-my-skin crawl guy Mr. Suit. He frowns. Clearly, Mr. Suit was expecting a different answer than the she-doesn’t-want-to-go one Blaze gave him. The two men behind Mr. Suit shift, their hands moving to rest on the guns on their belts. All around me, the Knights of Hades bristle and tension thickens the air. There’s no way Mr. Suit’s goons would be stupid enough to shoot at the club, right? They’re massively outnumbered.

“Now, now, let’s not get testy,” Mr. Suit says, waving a hand at the men behind him. They don’t take their hands off their guns, though. He looks back at me. “Don’t be an idiot, girl. The Santi Pastoris want you and the car back, one way or another.” He turns his attention to Reaper, who crosses his arms over his broad chest. “She’s worth a lot of money. You’re a smart man, no doubt. Hand her over and no one needs to get hurt.”

I hold my breath, waiting for Reaper’s answer.

“She doesn’t want to go with you, so she’s not going.” Reaper’s voice is like the toll of a bell, reverberating off the walls with an eerie depth. My soul shivers.

Mr. Suit’s expression grows irritated. “You’re making a mistake.”

Chainz steps forward, rolling his neck. “Time to fuck off.”

One of the men with guns throws out an insult in Italian, something about mothers and a goat I think, clearly ready to fight.

Blaze shifts in front of me, still holding my hand. When was the last time anyone put themselves between me and danger? When had I last felt protected in any way? Even being married to Enzo, I’ve been on my own for years.

A sharp word from Mr. Suit shuts the goon up before he looks back towards me and raises his voice. “The Santi Pastori are offering a quarter of a million dollars for the safe return of Enzo Pastori’s wife, Mrs. Kennedy Pastori. An additional one hundred thousand will be granted for the return of the car she left with.” He pauses to let the bounty sink in, and fear drifts over me like snowflakes. “Anyone harboring Mrs. Pastori will face the justice of her family.”

He turns and walks away with a jerk of his head, and after his two goons give the Knights a scathing look, they turn to follow him.

“Wait.” Blaze’s voice is like a whip’s crack in the silence and my heart thrashes against my ribcage.

Mr. Suit turns, an expectant look on his face.

Blaze doesn’t move from in front of me, and he still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Your man’s body is out back. You’ll want to hurry if you don’t want the coyotes to get him.”

Mr. Suit stiffens, his soft jaw clenching. It’s clear he’s pissed off and wants to say something, but instead he turns and marches out of the courtyard, goons following.

I don’t dare breathe yet, not when the Knights around me are still tense, waiting. Heated orders in Italian are too distant for me to make out, but then car doors slam and, shortly after, an engine revs then grows fainter.

“Bones, Heathen, take three others and do a perimeter check.” Reaper snaps out the order with cool efficiency, turning to face the gathered men. The two named men break off, pointing at their selection and heading out. “Take care of the body. No evidence.”

The club president’s face is still impassive as he looks at Blaze and me. “You two, my office. Now. Chainz, Brute, and Cinder, you too. The rest of you, keep your eyes open.”

“And the party?” someone asks from the back.

Reaper shrugs. “It’s not the worst thing that’s interrupted a party. Just be on guard in case those fuckers come back and try to make a play.”

Cheers ring out, threats against Mr. Suit mixed in. A moment later, the doors are flung open and music is blaring into the starry night again. Women flow out, most of them looking like nothing happened, and head right back to their biker for the night. Blaze leads me by the hand to follow Reaper, and I grab his wrist with my other, needing to hold on to something. I see Sydney looking at us, Lacy at her side, concern on both their faces. They make their way around the edge of the courtyard, towards the single, nondescript door set in another wall bordering the courtyard.

“What the hell—” Sydney starts as soon as she gets close to Reaper.

“Club business,” Reaper barks out, interrupting her. “Not yours.”

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