Page 40 of Clubs

He sniffed a few times, eyes still leveled on me. “Nah, I don’t need to. I think I made my point this morning.”

And there it was.

“Why?” Staggering to her feet, Brooke harrumphed. “Why are you doing this, Davey? I’m assuming, at least. That’s what the little bastard you sent to my house called you.”

Giving a half smile, lifting the bottom of his shirt to his eyes, he wiped away the remaining streams of blood. “Things’ll die down. We both know you’re not going away for this. I didn’t frame you.”

“No, just wanted to make our lives hell for a while,” I snapped. “Answer her fucking question. Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you think?” Laughing, he narrowed his eyes at Brooke. “Ask your sister.”

Slowly, heartache washed through Brooke’s expression.

God damn it.

Still holding the banister, with his free hand, Davey slipped the decorative ornament on its spindle off. He snatched something from inside.

And, like that, the door swung open. A gust of wind tossed it us through it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DECLAN

The brunt of my bodyweight slammed to the soil with a thundering thwack. But Brooke? She’d disappeared midflight. Could she have extended me the same courtesy? Teleported me, so I didn’t fall flat on my ass? Yes, she could’ve. Had she? No. Of course not.

A ring-ring sounded in my pocket. After struggling onto my ass, I flicked it open. A text from Emory flashed across the screen.

Tyler’s here. He wants to talk to Brooke. He’s waiting outside until she shows. I called her, but it went to voicemail. I figured she’s with you.

“Great,” I said under my breath, still struggling upright. Although I was healing, my ass hurt like a mother.

“What is it?” Brooke asked. By the time I was finding my footing, she was reading over my shoulder.

Like she hadn’t helped me to keep from landing how I had, I didn’t help her by extending the phone. Just snapped it shut, stowed it to my pocket, and started to my bike.

“Seriously?” Brooke called out behind me. “What—you gonna leave me here?”

“When have I ever left you behind?” Spinning toward her, I made no attempt to lower my voice. “When have I ever intentionally said or done something I knew would hurt you? When, Brooke?”

Unlike I’d expected, she swallowed hard. Like she couldn’t fathom why it bothered me that she couldn’t do me the smallest service of teleporting me so I didn’t land in misery after the bomb that’d just been dropped on us.

And as much as I wanted to stay angry, when I looked at her, that became harder than the last few days had been. There was something in her eyes I couldn’t quite describe. They were soft, gentle even, like a retired pit bull who’d lived its life in dog fighting rings and now feared for its life in a good home.

God damn it. I wasn’t trying to hurt her—sure as shit wasn’t trying to scare her—but God fucking damn it. I wasn’t happy. As, honestly, I felt I had the right to be.

“We can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped to clear it away. “We can’t talk about what just happened?”

“Not here.” Stepping over the bike, I nodded to her seat in the back. “Not now. Let’s go.”

Again, unlike how I’d expected her to respond, she simply… did.

She climbed onto the back of the bike behind me. As she got situated, fastening her helmet around her head, I watched her fumble with her hands in the side mirror. Normally, she rode with her hands around my waist or resting on my thighs. That was the best way to stay balanced on a bike, especially because I didn’t have a sissy bar.

Jesus Christ. I wanted to be mad—I was mad—but not that mad. Not so mad I wanted her to feel like she couldn’t touch me. Like I hated her.

I didn’t. I doubted I ever could.

This wasn’t her fault. I knew that. I didn’t blame her, not entirely. But I was hurt. Not even by Brooke, but Ria. Pain in the ass or not, I loved the little brat.

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