Page 13 of Pray for the Damned

I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles have long turned white as I force myself not to touch her smooth skin. Every time I glance over and find her hands tangled in her lap and her silky thighs on display, I barely stop myself from reaching over and holding her. But I have to take this slow.

If there’s one thing I know about my temptress, it’s that she doesn’t let anyone get close. It’s her defense mechanism, and one I’ve always liked because it meant I never had to kill any of the men that showed an interest in her.

I know what you’re thinking. I’m a man of God, I can’t take a life, and that’s probably true, but I was raised to be an assassin. There are just some things you can never take from someone, and this is one of them.

We’re getting closer to her apartment, and I’m no closer to getting her to agree to let me see her again, even if I am pretty sure Elias is going to hire her. I’ve been a member of the Scarlet Lounge for well over a year, and I’ve never seen anyone not get the job after being brought in for a trial shift.

As I pull onto her street, hoping she doesn’t notice that I haven’t checked the GPS once between the club and her home, she starts rummaging around in her bag looking for something.

“Thank you for giving me a lift home. I could have rode the subway, but that guard was adamantly against that idea.” She half laughs.

Something she’s going to learn very quickly when she works at the Scarlet Lounge is that Brodie takes the safety of every staff member and club member very seriously. It wouldn’t surprise me if the overprotective bastard knows where we all live just in case he ever has to get us home.

“Can’t say I was a fan of it either,” I admit. I’ve followed her home from the diner late at night too many times, and every time it happens, I get closer to kidnapping her and taking her home with me where she won’t have to pull twelve-hour shifts just to make rent each month.

She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as I stop the car in front of her building. “You tipped me too much after your last drink.” She holds some cash out to me, and my brows rise. I did tip her a hundred-dollar bill, which is a whole hell of a lot more than she normally gets at the diner, but she’s not holding one out to me. She’s holding two.

“Keep it,” I insist as I try to find any possible explanation for the second hundred she’s holding.

“It’s too much.”

“You deserve it,” I tell her.

She watches me for another moment before pulling her hand back. “Thank you. But really, you don’t have to tip me this much in the future.”

“Noted.” And ignored.

“Thanks again for the lift.”

“Anytime. How about I give you my number and you can give me a call if you need a ride in the future?” I offer.

Her smile grows, and she shakes her head. “I don’t have a phone, so that would be a little hard.”

Fuck. I forgot about that. At first it was because she didn’t want anyone to track her with one, but now I think it’s more of a habit than anything else. She didn’t have one as a teenager when she lived with her father, and then I guess she got used to not having it.

“You don’t have a phone?” I force as much surprise as I can muster into my tone.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Never needed one.”

I brush my fingers over the stubble on my chin and watch as she reaches for the door handle. “Thank you again, Emmett. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Waverly.”

She pushes her door open, and I can’t help but stare at her ass as she climbs the steps to the entry of her shitty apartment complex. Fuck, I hate that she lives here, but I have enough eyes on her that I can ensure her safety even when I’m not here.

Installing cameras in her apartment and trackers in every threadbare bag she owns may have been taking things too far, but I’ll never regret the things I’ve done to keep her safe.

Not even the ones that risked my own life.

Speaking of risking my life, I pull away from the curb and lap the block, parking my car up the street to make sure Waverly can’t see it from her bedroom window. I’ll have to be a little morecareful now she knows what car I drive, a problem I never had when she hadn’t seen me in a decade.

I shove my door open and move back toward her building, the sound of sirens filling the quiet night in the distance. It’s not until I’m level with the alley that runs along the side of her building that I pause and glare at the man leaning against his motorbike.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Kade?” I growl at my twin brother.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to stay out of his sight, no matter how hard I’ve tried. Every city I move to, he’s never far behind, and I can’t help but wonder if our father knows the reason his favorite son moves around so much.

“Nice to see you, little brother.”

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