Page 37 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

“You and I need to talk,” he hissed, and before I could say or do anything, he grabbed my hand—the one without my phone—and started to drag me along, pulling me in the opposite direction of the Redborne.

“Let me go,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you—”

He stopped, whirled on me, and tore off his sunglasses. His eyes were a bright, vibrant green, a hue that was almost familiar. “Take a long, hard look,” he advised me. “Do you really not know me? Because I sure as shit know you.” A gentle breeze blew past us, rustling his pitch-black hair. It was only two inches long, but it was long enough to look a little messy.

I replayed what he’d said in my head, and then I took in his appearance again.

The eyes. The hair. The six-foot-tall frame. The black leather jacket that had to be more of a fashion statement than protection against the weather.

I blinked, and for the quickest of seconds, I saw a man with his chin and lips painted black, a single white cross on the center of the mask hiding the rest of his face, the arms of the cross splitting through the eyeholes and the base of the cross ending just below his lips.

Holy shit.Pope?

The recognition must’ve been plain on my face, because he put his sunglasses back on and started to pull me along again. “That’s what I thought.”

Even though he was Deacon’s brother, I didn’t know him, and I didn’t want to go anywhere with him, but he was strong, and his grip around my wrist was steel. I could’ve made a scene, but all I could think was: what if people found out who we were somehow? Pope might be desperate; he might not care that the label could go after him and sue him. I didn’t want any part of it.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I told him. “So why don’t you just let me go?”

“Nah. Like I said, you and I have to talk.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at me, and maybe he picked up on how creepy this whole thing was, because he added, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. We’re just going down the block to a cafe. We’re not going anywhere private. The last thing I’d want to do is put my brother’s girlfriend in a compromising position.”Though the words were sweet and thoughtful at face value, the way he said them made them sound the opposite.

As far as I knew, Deacon hadn’t spoken to Pope in a long time, so to hear that he knew I was Deacon’s girlfriend made me confused. “How did you know we were dating?” I asked, hurrying to walk beside him instead of behind him, though he did not let my wrist go, even when I matched his stride.

“I didn’t, but you just confirmed it,” he hissed out.

I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting to say anything else that might get me or Deacon into trouble. I could, I supposed, call the police. My phone was still in my otherhand. But getting the police involved might lead to Pope spilling the beans on Black Sacrament. He didn’t know my name, but he could ruin it for his brother, Priest, and Bishop.

“All right, fine,” I whispered. “I’ll come with you. You don’t need to drag me along.”

Behind his glasses, I’d bet anything Pope narrowed his eyes at me, like he didn’t believe me, but in the end, his fingers loosened around my wrist, and he let me go.

I slipped my phone into my back pocket, wondering if it was a mistake to go anywhere with Pope. Honestly, I didn’t trust him. Granted, I only knew the rumors about him and why he’d been kicked out of Black Sacrament, but he was also Deacon’s brother.

Could he really be that bad?

Then again, Deacon had been pretty mean and rude when I’d first met him. It had taken a little while for him to get comfortable with me, to lower his walls and let me in. If Pope was anything like that, this talk might not be a talk in the strictest of sense.

He wasn’t lying when he said we were going to a nearby cafe. It was one of those rare cafes that had outside seating in the city, and by some twist of luck, we were able to get one of those tables.

Pope got us each a coffee. I didn’t go to drink it; I wasn’t a huge fan of coffee and I didn’t quite trust him. I couldn’t forget the whole reason he’d been kicked out of Black Sacrament was because of a drunk, drug-filled, sexistrant to a bunch of women that was caught on camera and circulated online.

I’d watched the video. Let’s just say someone who could say those things under the influence was probably thinking them while not inebriated and high.

“So, why are you stalking me?” I threw out the question before I thought better of it. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be so forward with someone who had lost everything and now viewed me as his replacement.

“Stalking?” he repeated, his brows furrowing as he took a sip from his coffee. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Even his voice was like Deacon’s: low and rough, the kind of voice that came off as menacing without trying.

“Showing up everywhere I go? Yeah, that’s pretty much stalking.”

“Please. Everywhere? The hair place and today. That’s twice. You’d have to squint real hard to consider that stalking.” Pope leaned back. He’d taken off his sunglasses, folded them up, and placed them on the table, near his coffee cup.

I didn’t want to get into the semantics when it came to stalking. “What is it you think we need to talk about?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re stealing all of my hard work and using my brother. Let’s start there.” The hue of his emerald stare read he was not amused, and that he believed everything he was saying.

“I’m not stealing anything,” I was quick to say. “And I’m not using your brother.”

He lifted a single brow, and that single arched eyebrow spoke volumes. It was clear he did not believe me, so I didn’t know why he’d brought me here if he wasn’t going to believe a single word I said. “You’re riding on a horse I spent damn near my whole life training.”

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