Page 32 of Make Me Yours

She wasn’t wrong. I am about to explode. Not only because they showed up together, but because duty called, and I had to leave them behind. How am I supposed to focus on this pickup when all I can think about is Drake’s hands around her waist, his lips on hers, and…

I stop, unable to control my rage if I keep picturing the two of them together. I need to focus. Tonight, needs to go down without fail.

I feel someone come up behind me, and I don’t know what exactly it is that makes me instantly know it’s him. Maybe it’s the cheap ass cologne mixed with the stench of cigarettes that gives him away. Or maybe it is the sound of his head so far up Zeke’s ass that lets me know my uncle’s lap dog is near. Either way, it keeps me on edge, ready to strike if he dares come any closer.

“Boss says you’re in charge tonight. He had to take care of something that came up, so he stayed back. You better not fuck this up, Saint, or I’ll make sure you never see the inside of a Cobra clubhouse again.”

Yup, it must be the last part. Rage continues to build up inside of me as I turn and face the patronizing asshole. He’s already on my shit list and after seeing him come out of The Jungle at Stella’s side a few weeks ago, I am seconds away from killing the fucker.

Trustworthy, loyal, and cautious. Those are the reasons my uncle gave me when I asked him why he kept the fucking asshole on around. Though to me, he’s nothing but a fucking ignorant coward.

“Remind me again why the fuck I haven’t killed you yet?” My sarcastic tone doesn’t faze him. My uncle’s right-hand man, Carver, laughs as coming up beside me.

“Cause Zeke would have your balls for it, son,” Carver says as he pats me on my back. The bald, tattooed fucker laughs harder as he walks over to the large gate chained up with large metal chains that look like they’re charged with electricity.

Prophet, baptized with that nickname the moment he was inducted into The Cobras, grins triumphantly as he passes me, making sure he bumps me as he does.

I reach out and grab his shoulder, my fingers digging into his leather jacket. “Careful Prophet,” I warn, my voice low yet loud enough for him to hear. “Zeke may enjoy having you around, but I promise you I can make damn sure you hate it here.”

Slowly turning to glare at me, he shrugs out of my hold with a teasing smirk of his own. “Don’t kid yourself, Saint, you have no authority here. Being Zeke’s nephew makes you untouchable, but it gives you no power. Especially when he’s determined to make sure you never join the higher ranks.” The fucker winks at me, knowing well enough he’s not only left me angrier than I already was, but now with doubts running through my mind from what he’s said.

Zeke wouldn’t do that to me. He told me he’d let me finally join The Cobras, he wouldn’t double cross me like that. However, my crippling insecurities and thoughts of not being good enough for Zeke to want me in his ranks keep me on edge.

I set those thoughts aside as I get back into character, knowing the next few moments are crucial in determining my future with The Cobras. I need to prove to him I’m worthy.

I join Carver, Prophet, and Jewel, another one of Zeke’s trusted advisors at the front of the wrought-iron gate.

“What is this place?” I ask, unsure of where we are exactly. I know The Order is nothing but a bunch of pretentious, elitist bastards who’ve traded their cuts for Armani suits and their Harleys’ in for Bugattis’, yet this place looks nothing like where I’d imagined they’d hang out.

Prophet turns to me with a smug grin. “A Safehouse they use to ensure their clubhouse maintains its anonymity and high status. The Order may be one of the most dangerous criminal organizations, dabbling in anything and everything you can imagine, yet to the town, they’re practically benevolent gods. Those who don’t fear the mighty Kane Dalton worship him.”

Before I can respond, the gates open, electric currents sparking through the chains now undone.What kind of place is this?

???

“Where’s Zeke?” one guard calls out when the four of us walk through the gates.

“He had some time-sensitive business to attend to and sent his apologies. However, we’ve kept our part of the deal. We’re here and we have the money.”

Behind the guards, someone stands, his stature tall, his shadow broad, and the menacing chuckle that leaves him makes the hairs on my neck stand in response. “I don’t like change, especially not last-minute ones. I thought Zeke understood that.”

He steps forward and out of the darkness, and he’s nothing like what I expected. Dark hair, impeccably dressed, and oddly looks like a damn movie star instead of a notorious crime boss. Almost perfect except for the lone scar across the left side of his face.

“He did, which is why he sent his most trusted men,” Carver shouts, stepping forward, only he doesn’t seem very in control.

“The deal is off. You tell Zeke if he wants to continue doing business with me, he better be a man and show up.”

I’ve seen this too many times before. “As Carver already said, a time sensitive situation came up that sadly…”

“You seem like a smart kid, Malachi?” Kane Dalton interrupts as he steps forward. I never told him my name, but being the all-knowing ruler he is, I’m sure he’s done his research and knows everything about the local gangs. “Let’s make a deal. I have something you want, and I believe you can help me with something I need.”

“Sorry man, I know better than to make a deal with the Devil. I've seen men burn in hell for a lot less, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not a fan of the flames.”

“Yes, well, some men deserve to burn for their sins, while the rest of us do our best to cleanse those who are left behind.”

“That kind of thinking is dangerous, Kane. May I call you Kane?” I ask rhetorically. “Reminds me a lot of the untouchable Wesley Servite, who might I remind you, is now burning in the hell he created for himself,” I answer, reminding him nobody is untouchable. “But I’m sure you already knew that. Were the two of you friends? Or do elitist, criminal bastards not hang in the same circles?”

At my statement, his men pull their guns on us, immediately stepping forward to shield their boss. Behind me, Carver, Jewel, and Prophet step back with their hands up. We weren’t dumb enough to leave our guns at home, but also not stupid enough to pull them out when we’re outnumbered.

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