Page 49 of Beautifully Reckless

She wants the truth. For me to open up. I barely spoke about this shit with Kylie, but then again, Kylie never asked. She just partied, took what she wanted, and didn’t care tounderstand.

But Abbey… she’s not here for the chaos. She wants to know me. Understand what she’s caught up in.

“Will you be pissed if I don’t tell you?” My eyes drop to her lips. They’re so fucking close. I could easily lean forward and claim them.

Fuck, I want to.

Her gaze dims a little. “Not pissed. Just disappointed.” She shrugs, and fuck me, I don’t want to be another person to let her down.

“Do you know much about cartels?”

Her brows shoot up, and she shifts on my lap again, trying to see my face better.

“Like, drug cartels?”

I nod. “In the US, the cartels are predominantly run by South American outfits. But here in Australia, we’re a fucking island in the middle of nowhere. It’s a lot fucking harder to smuggle shit in. So most of the drugs come through outlaw motorcycle clubs and a few top-tier crime families.”

“Mafia?” she asks, and I grin.

“Not your classic Italian or Russian mobs, but yeah. We have mafia here. Mostly run by foreign nationals.”

“Griffin and Devon… are they mafia?”

“They are part of one of the most notorious crime families in this state. So yeah, I’d call them mafia if you want to put a label on it.”

Her mouth falls open. “Let me get this straight. Tonight I had dirty cops, mafia, and an outlaw motorcycle club all chasing me?”

“You did, Angel.” I nod, and she sighs, her eyes dropping to my chest.

“I don’t know if Ishould feel special or just plain terrified.”

“Hey,” I grip her chin, redirecting her gaze back to mine. “Terrified is normal, but mostly, you should feel important. Because despite the guns and suits, the Marx men are good people. If I wasn’t a selfish prick, I’d tell you you’re better off going with them.”

Abbey remains quiet for a few long beats, her big eyes tracking over my face, shifting from my eyes, to my forehead, down to my nose, before settling on my mouth.

She licks her lips, and my fucking heart stalls.

Why the fuck does my body have such a visceral reaction to something so innocent? Just the lick of her lips, and there goes my fucking brain.

Jesus Christ. No one has ever knocked me off balance like this girl.

Reaching up, Abbey’s fingers graze my longer than usual beard, a result of not fucking looking after myself lately.

“I don’t want to go with them,” she whispers, her eyes flicking back to mine. “I want to be with you.”

“Fuck, Angel,” I breathe, leaning forward until our foreheads touch. “I don’t know if I’m the better option.”

“I don’t care. I know it doesn’t make sense,” she whispers, voice low so we don’t wake the nine other teens sleeping in the room, “but I don’t feel safe unless I’m with you.”

I ease back, cupping her face, our noses brushing.

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. I kidnapped you. Brought you to an outlaw MC compound. Made you sleep in my bed. Threw you into a world of booze, orgies and drugs. And fuck, let’s not forget the violence. There’s nothing safe about that.”

“And yet,” she breathes, leaning in closer, her lips hovering over mine, “the only time I’ve felt safe is with you.”

Our breathing grows shallow, lips barely apart, but still not touching.

I should pull away. Should stop blurring the lines. Focus on protecting her, killing her attackers, and then, walk the fuck away.

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