Maddox is a white guy with blond hair and the kind of good looks that would have him competing with any of the legion of blond actors Hollywood likes to employ. He’s another transplant, this time from Chicago, and he and Cohen have been friends who occasionally are more for a few years now. He’s only the second guy my brother has trusted enough to let into his bed on a semi-regular basis, which is saying something. He’s also just as deadly as Cohen is.
Between the three of them, they are more than capable of watching our back.
Eli and Harlow flank me on either side. He’s in slacks and a light-gray button-down shirt and looks like he just walked out of a board meeting. He’s done something to his hair to give it a bit of a wave, and the only marring of his perfection is the bruising around his eye. Even that doesn’t really detract. It simply highlights the height of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. Eli looks like a fallen angel, and it makes me want to prod at him until the illusion of perfection shatters.
Harlow’s changed into a flirty red dress that makes her tits look amazing and flares out around her thighs. She’s got on black boots and a leather jacket to combat the chill in the air, and she’s left her hair down. Her makeup is understated, with the exception of the bright red lips that perfectly match the dress. She catches me looking and lifts her brows, a silent challenge, but she’s holding herself more tightly than the last time I saw her. Something happened today, either with the Brides or after. I’ll have to get her to tell me about it once this is over.
“Behave, you two.”
Harlow gives a tight nod. Eli just smiles slowly. “Of course.”
He’s up to something, but I knew that from the moment he said he’d play nice and then hit his knees to suck my cock. I can’t afford to react, not when he’s no doubt thinking three steps ahead. I have to anticipate his plans and cut them off before he can move forward with them. Either way, it won’t happen this afternoon. He hasn’t had enough time to plan, and no matter how fucked up his relationship is with Harlow, I don’t believe he’ll do something to put her in danger. He won’t risk calling my bluff on it.
At least, he better fucking not.
I turn and look back down the street. This time of day, there should be a decent amount of foot traffic, but it’s almost deserted. I start moving, conscious of Harlow and Eli falling into step behind me on either side. I’d feel better having Harlow between me and Eli, but that’s the very reason I don’t put her there. I won’t do anything to let him know I register him as a larger threat than I already have.
There are a couple ways to play this, but I have to maintain a position of power. Walking door to door to talk to the owners of the shops lining Old Town isn’t the way to go. Instead, I lead us down to the courtyard about halfway through the street. It used to be a four-way stop, but it’s been given the same treatment as the rest of the street. There are banners filtering the light and protecting from the weather, and someone’s dug up parts of the street to plant some carefully curated greenery. Tables and chairs provide outdoor seating for the scattering of restaurants in the area. There is also a trio of food trucks set up in the dead end that’s been blocked off.
I sit on one of the picnic tables and prop my elbows on my knees. “Round them up. They dig in their heels, leave them be. I don’t need everyone. Word will spread either way.”
Cohen nods and motions to Maddox and Iris. They head back the way we came and split, ducking into three separate businesses. I keep one eye on them and the rest of my attention on the area immediately surrounding us.
Harlow props a hip on the table next to me. “You’ve got some balls of steel to summon them like a king. They don’t like it. That’s now how things work around here.”
“It’s how things work now. They’ll learn to live with it.” I speak without looking at her. “This will save wasted time on both sides.”
“Not how I’d play it,” Eli murmurs.
I shoot him a look. “You’d smile and come, hat in hand, door to door to tell them how grateful you are for their support and make all sorts of promises.”
“That’s exactly what he did.” Harlow doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t look at Eli. Her tone is remarkably devoid of any emotion, which tells me the source of her disquiet. As far as I know, Eli didn’t leave his room from the moment Cohen marched him back in there earlier, and Harlow didn’t go to him, but they must have communicated somehow.