A life and a future, something they spent most of their lives believing they’d never have due to that first shit card the universe dealt them. With us, they have an ace in their pockets and that ace, it’s where loyalty begins to grow, and the rest follows.
Bass, her older brother, was a scrappy motherfucker, strong and clever. We knew he’d be perfect for our world, so being the older of the two of them, me and my brothers went to him with our offer—live with us, go to our schools and act right, earn a place in our empire.
He agreed with a blink, but his clause quickly followed.
His baby sister, only thirteen months younger was to be sent away where she’d be free of the world of trouble he was about to jump headfirst into.
He wanted her safe and far away from any danger our world might bring, since she was finally safe from the one she was born into. He said she wouldn’t survive, that her world would turn dark, and he couldn’t live with that.
Since our family’s purpose is to protect those who need it, offer more to those who seek it, and handle all the bullshit that gets in the way however the hell we see fit, what he was selling for her sounded good. At the end of the day, we wanted what was best for the girl, too.
It was with his push, a decent monthly check from our very own accounts to make sure she was cared for properly, and off she went to live with their extended family. An aunt and cousin who were happy to have her, wanted her even.
Where she would thrive with them.
Based on Brielle’s comments, she thinks this was our doing, that we only wanted him, and she was trash we threw away.
So big brother couldn’t handle breaking little sister’s heart.
It’s cool, maybe I’ll do it for him.
“Why am I here?” I repeat her question, my smirk slowly growing. “I’m here to learn more about the girl who’s been hidden away.”
I imagine it’s unexpected and uncontrollable interest that has her sitting up and slipping her fingertips into her silver shaded hair.
Oh, yeah. Too easy.
I relax, draping my arm across the back of the seat. “So what do you say, little Bishop, you in?”BrielleI stare at him, wide-eyed, not that he can see mine, and the cockiest of grins covers his lips.
I fight it as best I can, but it’s to no avail, and my cheeks fill with air, a laugh spitting out of me in the next second.
His sheath of confidence falls as quick as it came and a heavy line forms between his brows.
“Oh my god, you’re serious.” I drop against the door. “Are you serious?”
He sits perfectly still in his seat for a long moment before finally leaning forward in full-on slow-mo mode, nothing but the sound of his hands dragging along the cheap leather filling the car.
Such a well-practiced playboy.
He pauses when he’s directly in front of my face. “If I was?”
“Then I’d probably say something like, I’m pretty sure you think I’m this little, guarded, overnight bumkin child of some kind who doesn’t recognize a wolf when she sees one, but I do.”
“Good.”
His instant and darkly delivered response is surprising and causes a hint of zing to run along the base of my neck.
Suddenly the door at my back opens.
I fall back with a yelp, but I’m caught against a crotch.
I look up to find the driver, Mac, he said his name was, standing there.
He grips me under the arms and tugs me to my feet as Royce climbs out, positioning himself in front of me in the same second.
I’m now sandwiched between two mounds of muscle and abs, the ones at my back flexed and firm, the ones at my front... tight and toned.
Cool, yeah. No big deal.
Neither is the perfect shape of a pistol Mac must have tucked into his waistband.
My pulse leaps, my awareness spiking, but it’s not uncommon around here for people to carry.
Not that they’re from around here, but I imagine it’s more than common where they come from.
I wonder how far down the tattoo on Royce’s neck leads?
“Ask and I’ll show you,” he teases with a measured grin. “Got a habit of speakin’ out loud?”
“One I wasn’t really aware of until, you know... today.”
“Keep it up, it’s good for my ego.”
“Mm,” I tease, tilting my head. “I feel like your ego is really well-fed.”
Humor lines the edges of his eyes, but no other part of his expression gives any sign of fun.
He rolls his tongue between his lips. “Give me your phone.”
“Ask nicely.”
His mouth forms a firm line, but I think it’s to hide a smile.
Maybe.
I’m not sure because his stare is still that angry, annoyed squint he keeps giving me.