Page 87 of The Heir

“There’s a guest room,” I mumbled, before numbly making my way inside.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Blaze

I barely slept, I just laid there and held Marchella, pretending everything was okay for her benefit. She’d suffered enough the past few days with my bullshit.

Dawn broke sometime after five and I slowly slid my arm from under her. She stirred and rolled toward me, a question in her sleepy expression. I kissed her forehead.

“Get your rest, you’re going to need it when I get back, beautiful.”

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, her voice thicker than normal, her eyes still closed.

“Going to see about a job really quick. Papers say I have movement until noon. I’ll be back in time to take you to breakfast before I’m locked down again,” I promised.

She murmured against my kiss, but didn’t ask any more questions or move to stop me.

I wasn’t expecting Trista to be perched on the waist-high ledge of the porch steps.

“You look like one of those Egyptian cat statues or something,” I teased, not knowing what else to say, but wanting her to know I didn’t hate her.

She flicked her cigarette and looked up at me, her lips twitching into a hint of a smile, “Where are you off to so early?”

I drew in a long, deep breath, unsure whether I wanted to admit my intended destination or not.

“Your brother’s place,” I finally relented, so as not to appear rude.

“Yeah?” She pepped up, hopping off the rail.

I glanced back, confused.

“Wh-what are you doing?

“Going with you.” She nodded and kept walking toward my bike.

“Uh– Is that–allowed?”

She froze, spinning on her heel and jerking a brow up in a deadly arch, “’Allowed?’ Blaze Aviston, I’m not sure what you mean by ‘allowed–‘ Are you suggesting my husband's permission is somehow required for me to be transported somewhere in this world?”

She blinked in a way that left me stammering, even if that wasn’t what I meant at all, “I–I– No.”

“No.” She nodded, “Good, because the day that becomes a thing, is the day your president’s dick becomes my new writing tool. I keep those in the purse I don’t carry.”

She kept nodding the whole time she was laying her threats, and I eventually nodded with her, because I was a little scared of what would happen if I didn’t show some sign of receptiveness to her madness.

“No– I just– I meant, with the club. Is that– A thing–? I don’t know the rules,” I whispered, until her cigarette had all but went limp in her grasp.

Her eyes were a stale, bored color, by the time she broke the uncomfortable silence, “Blaze– I’m your uncle’s wife, not some barfly from the Booze Barn, okay?”

“Yeah. So– He isn’t gonna–?”

She blinked and I eventually felt my cheeks warming under her critical gaze.

“Get on,” I snapped, hopping on the bike.

She snorted and saddled up behind me. Once we were on the road, she gave a dramatic sigh and tapped her nails on my back like she was bored.

“Now that we have an understanding, if you ever deny me or tell Easy, I was on the back of your bike, I’ll say you made me play a guided game of pocket pool and threatened my life after he left me at your house–”

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