Page 17 of Blaze
I clear my throat, and she looks at me warily. Shit, I’m no good at this. “You doin’ okay?”
She snorts and shrugs a shoulder. “About as good as you’d expect.”
She doesn’t say anything else and I don’t like it. I want to poke at her, get her to show her claws again, but I grit my teeth. I don’t offer comfort or any cuddly shit. I don’t even know her, like Brute said. There’s no reason I should be drawn to her like this.
The rest of the drive in is quiet, and the entire way I stay alert in case those jackasses try to get the jump on us. Reaper put me in charge of Kennedy, which means she might as well be a client of ours. I’ll keep her safe while we figure out the car or get her a new ride, then she’s getting sent on her way. I’m always down to have fun, but it’s time to make her off-limits.
Learning why to never mix business with pleasure is a lesson I don’t need again. Dark memories try to push in, but I turn my thoughts away and refuse to let them surface.
The main street running through Devil’s Haven is empty; all the stores and buildings are dark for the night. Everyone is at home with their families, knowing they don’t have to worry about getting their door busted in. The city used to be filled with fear, a place where parents didn’t let their kids play out in front of their houses even during the day. The Knights of Hades changed that when we took over, and it’s something we’re proud of.
Even The Styx is quiet for the night since Sydney is out at the clubhouse. No point in being open since anyone who’d normally be here is out at the party, too. I drive around to the back to the door close to the stairs.
Parking and cutting the engine, I slide out of the truck with intentions of opening Kennedy’s door, but she’s already sliding out. She looks up at me, the single outdoor light reflecting in her eyes, and I see the walls she’s got all around her. A part of me wants to break them down, but it’s better to leave them in place. She doesn’t need someone like me in her life.
I push the truck door closed, and it only takes two strides to catch up with her.
“You don’t need to walk me to the door,” she says, her voice barely louder than the crickets and the buzz of the floodlight above the door.
I shove my hands in my front pockets, looking at her. “Yeah, I do. Reaper put me in charge of you, which means I make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be.”
She scrunches her face but doesn’t say anything. I’m sure she’s used to men who are controlling since she married the mafia, but at least she knows I’m not about to raise my hand against her.
The gravel crunches under our steps and everything looks normal, but suddenly I’m on edge. As a soldier and now biker, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. I put a hand on Kennedy’s shoulder, stopping her as I look around us.
“What is it?” Her voice is cautious but not terrified.
“Not sure yet,” I answer. “Come on.” I let her go but walk in front of her to the door—
except the door isn’t fully closed and I know Sydney isn’t one to be careless, not after what the last motorcycle club did to this town.
“Don’t move.” I grunt out the order to Kennedy before jogging back to the truck. Quickly, I open the door and reach under the seat where my SIG Sauer is, the handgun a favorite of the club. Keeping my sense open, I stride back to her side, checking the magazine out of habit. I pause in front of the cracked door and give Kennedy a look. “Stay right behind me and be quiet. Got it?”
She nods hurriedly.
Gun in hand, I ease the door open. Not a squeak. Sydney takes care of her place. Before me is a tiny entryway that’s dark except for what light bleeds in from behind me. I know there’s only a few feet between me and the inside door that grants access to the hall connecting the bar’s kitchen, office and upstairs suite entrance. My enhanced eyesight lets me see that the door is closed.
Maybe the back door being left ajar is a fluke, but I’m not taking any chances.
I open the inner door. It opens as quietly as the first, but this time there’s dim light filling the corridor from the kitchen. That’s standard since the closing shift always leaves a light on for the early morning crew.
Listening hard, I don’t hear anyone except Kennedy behind me, her breathing shallow and quick. She’s sticking close, not running to hide.
I head to the end of the hall to the door that leads upstairs. This one is always closed and locked. I curse silently when I see it open. I turn towards Kennedy, tucking my head close to hers. The sweet scent of her tugs at my gut. “Wait until I’m at the top, then follow. Don’t head up until I say it’s clear.”
“Okay,” she whispers, the word shaky.
I want another taste of her lips but I refuse myself, turning instead to climb the stairs. Sydney’s got a total ban on any of the Knights being up here. Something happened between her and Reaper, so I figure it’s got more to do with him than anyone else. Still, I’m sure she’ll be more pissed that strangers got into her place than me going inside to clear them out.
At the top of the stairs, I peer into the living area. The light above the stove on the far wall is on, illuminating a decent part of the room. It doesn’t reach either bedroom door, though. The only thing I hear is Kennedy’s quiet steps as she climbs up behind me. I gesture for her to wait. She doesn’t know the club’s gestures, but she gets it. She stops.
I make my way towards a table lamp and flick it on, lighting up the rest of the area. Nothing seems off.
I take in Kennedy, who’s studying the room with a shrewd gaze. When she shakes her head, I nod and make my way to Sydney’s room. Hoping the difficult woman will forgive me, I enter, gun ready, but find it empty. I turn on a light and clear her walk-in closet before returning to Kennedy.
She’s stepped away from the entry stairs towards the couch, and when she catches me heading towards her, she startles. She doesn’t make more than a shocked meep, and I have to hold back a laugh. When was the last time I wanted to laugh in a tense situation like this? She glares at me and I make my way to the bathroom. The door’s open, and turning on the light is enough to see it’s clear.
The last place is Kennedy’s bedroom, and her eyes are wide. Her fear is obvious, but she’s holding it together.
