Page 43 of Hellfire

“Wow, you’re so old already!”

“Am not! How old are you?” she asked, sticking out her tongue.

“36.” I winked. “So, I get to decide what’s considered old.”

Leona giggled, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. She was so pure and innocent, and being with her made me want to be a better man.

“Finished!” she announced, holding up her necklace triumphantly.

“The pink and white flowers were a good choice.”

“Let me see yours,” she demanded, making grabby hands at my lei. Chuckling, I handed her my necklace, feeling a little nervous about what she would think.

“I made it for your mama. Do you think she’ll like it?” I asked tentatively, truly curious what she would think.

Leona’s brows furrowed in concentration as she studied the white flowers surrounded by blue gems. One thing about children, they were brutally honest. I waited on bated breath for her answer.

“I think mama will love it.” She beamed, handing it back. Sighing in relief, I chuckled nervously. “But I think mine is better.”

“You little–” I laughed, reaching over and tickling her in retaliation.

The sound of a motorcycle’s engine rumbled throughout the garden. I turned my head, my eyes following the source of the noise until I saw Reaper rounding the corner. He rode slowly, almost hesitantly, before coming to a stop. Without a word, he threw his helmet on the ground and stormed in my direction.

My heart skipped a beat as I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t come back to the clubhouse last night, and I was worried about him. If anyone took last night’s failure to heart, it was him. He never took death well. The burden he bore made sure of that.

The garden, which had been buzzing with life just moments ago, was quickly vacated by most of the club. Whenever Reaper was around, people scattered. Not that I blamed them. Reap was one scary motherfucker. I stood, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Nice of you to finally come home, brother,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

He grunted in response, pulling at the worn leather gloves he always wore. My brows furrowed in concern. The only time he would seek me out like this was to spar. To help rid himself of all his inner demons. I wouldn’t claim that it was the healthiest way to get through something, but I would never tell him no.

Before we could start, however, Leona appeared, tugging on Reaper’s cut. I winced, knowing how much he hated being touched. But to my surprise, he didn’t push her away. Both our gazes shifted to hers.

“When I’m sad, my mommy always does something to help me feel better,” she said, holding out the necklace she had made. “Maybe this will help you.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Leona, why don’t you go with grams and Diamond? I need to take care of something,” I said, knowing Reaper was about to explode for touching him, and Leona didn’t deserve that.

The rigid set of Reaper’s jaw slowly relaxed, and his eyes darkened with emotion. It was as if Leona’s small gesture had broken through the wall he had built around himself. Without a word, he took the necklace from her and held it in his hand, staring at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

My shoulders sagged in relief, a lump forming in my throat at his sigh. It was rare to see him show any sort of vulnerability. But as I watched him standing there, holding onto that necklace like it was a lifeline, I knew that he was hurting in a way that words could never express. And in that moment, I felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Leona. For reminding us all that sometimes, the smallest things could make the biggest difference. She truly was just what my crew needed. She and her mother both.

Chapter Seventeen

Katrina

I walked into the training room, my heart racing as I saw Tank already there, his muscles glistening with sweat. This wasn’t the first time we had trained together, and I was getting better, more confident. Tank’s eyes met mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Damn. He’s always been able to make my heart skip a beat with just a look.

It’s been three weeks. Threelongweeks since that night we shared. I was going crazy. The sexual tension between us was growing every day.

I don’t get it. Why hasn’t he made a move?

I sighed in frustration and threw my hair in a messy braid, trying to focus on today’s sparring session. But it was hard when he was so damn distracting.

“Morning,” I said, strolling across the gym toward the ring.

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