Page 19 of The Heir

“Man…” I warned.

“Hey, I’m just trying to let you know. You should keep an eye on that one. Keep him away from your sister.”

May gave a humored groan, “This the shit we gotta listen to for the next…”

“Your mother wouldn’t like him getting sweet on Karlotti.”

“Stop talking about my sister. You don’t know her,” I reminded him.

“I don’t need to know her. I know your mother, and I know him.”

“My mother barely knows him. Okay? She can’t be parted from her dual security system installed home on the other side ofthe country. It’s probably the first time they’ve ever met face to face…” I paused before reflecting, “She didn’t even meet him face to face. She hopped out of the car before we arrived.”

“Right. You don’t wonder why?” Mak drawled, his voice all malice.

I scoffed, “If you think my mother needs any reason besides the past and all that haunts her for anything she does, you clearly don’t know her.”

“It's because she knows the truth about him,” Mak continued, undeterred.

When I gave in and returned my gaze to Mak, I found his attention locked on May. He was speaking to me, but the taunting was meant for May.

“Your mother’s not crazy, Blaze. She knows every time she looks at him, she’s looking at the son of the man who caused her all that pain.”

“You’re fucking high.” May laughed. “Crystal doesn’t have anything against my dad. My ol’ man didn’t do shit to her.”

“I’m not talking about Easy. I’m talking about your father, Demetri Valentino.”

That name had the same effect on May that it had on me. Every ounce of fuckery was knocked from him. His eyes instantly darkened and glistened dangerously.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me? No. Demetri raped my sister while she was his captive. Common sense. She was pregnant when she came home to us. Easy is a soft bastard. He welcomed her back. He took careof you. What else could he do?” Mak continued despite the fact that May had risen from his bench and was gravitating his way.

“Son, sit down,” the guard called, stopping May in his tracks.

Makaveli laughed, a deep, provocative sound. The bastard smiled the first real smile I’d ever seen on him and sat up. He didn’t rise, but he certainly came to life.

“You think you’re a threat? You’re a fucking pussy. The son of a pussy.” Mak spat poison at his own nephew.

“That’s your sister’s son…” I whispered, but it didn’t faze him.

The radio sparked, but I was too focused on the two of them to hear it.

“He’s a monster like his father before him. Mark my word, boy. That’s a stain on society. He’s gonna–”

“I don’t have to kill you.” May’s tone was gravel, his words unmistakable despite their calm, quiet delivery. He tipped his chin up with a smile of his own flashing back at Mak, “Though, I admit, it would give me a pleasure that you would never begin to comprehend– I think it will give me more when I make your son do it for me.”

The door sprang open, and the room flooded with guards not a moment too soon.

Chapter Eight

Marchella

I didn’t sleep worth a damn. I knew no one would get out, but even so, I kept replaying the events in my mind and hoping I could steal a few more moments with Blaze before he left town. I knew it probably wouldn’t happen. I didn’t blame him for my father’s arrest. Though no one would ever admit it, I would… Maybe if my father had talked to Mackie about his temper when it was still manageable, or God forbid, get him some therapy after our mother’s murder, none of it would have happened.

And why the fuck did he have to fire a pistol to stop the fight? There was a party full of Disciples, any one of which, or all of whom, would have broken the boys up for him. Even after Mackie pulled the knife, they’d have done it at the Vice President’s behest. And my father was the fucking V.P. of the Steel Disciples. Granted, I didn’t know who Montana had passed the president patch to last night, since I never got around to asking, it really didn’t matter. None of the guys would nay-say my father in wanting the fight stopped. Fighting amongst each other was frowned upon. Patched members had consequences for it.

I rubbed my brows only to jerk my hand away with fear that I’d smeared my pencil work. A quick glance in the rearview confirmed that the arches were still perfectly drawn in place, and I flopped back against the driver’s seat.

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