I haven’t even had time to process the madness inside his house. I’ve been too focused on avoiding the Death Dealers. Now I’ve invited them over.
Drake groans while grabbing a beer. “I’ve known Drex longer than you. Drex is cold. They didn’t make him VP just because he’s Herrin’s son, even though that did play some part in it. They did it because he’s the one who will obliterate anyone who crosses them. He’s trigger happy. Hell, even Herrin has said Drex is too bloodthirsty, and that they’d always be in a war if he doesn’t get his temper in check before he takes over.”
Hearing it said aloud makes me really regret telling him where I am. I’m that damn turtle or frog or whatever it was that let the scorpion ride its back across the pond.
“How do you know all this?” I ask him, deciding not to share that childhood tale of instinct versus intentions.
He shrugs while propping his feet up, sitting down beside me on the sofa.
“I was their go-to guy before my fallout with Drex. Cecil wouldn’t have ever touched their ink if it hadn’t been for that. And when someone is getting ink, they usually like to talk. I’ve always been smart enough to keep my mouth shut when I hear something that could get me killed. Hence the reason I’ve earned their trust.”
I eye him, finally getting curious.
“What happened between you and Drex?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “He fucked my girl. Claims he didn’t know she was mine. But he didn’t exactly feel bad about it even when he found out. I told you; Drex is cold. I learned we’re not friends, but I also never want to be his enemy. Drex doesn’t let people close enough to hurt him. Not even his own dad.”
I’m sure he’s trying to dissuade me from my interest in Drex, but it does the opposite. I almost feel… sad? Drex doesn’t even kiss women because he doesn’t like the intimacy of it.
And yet I can’t seem to push him away. He’s coming for me. I might have misconstrued everything he said, but he almost sounded desperate to have me back.
“Drex won’t kill you.”
He smiles grimly. “Yeah. I know. He’s cold, but he’s not that damn icy. He will, however, probably punch me a few times. It’s you I’m worried about. After everything you’ve told me, you’re a target. You’re the center of too many coincidences. You sure Drex cares enough about you to believe you?”
Before I can answer, there’s a pounding at the door. That was fast.
“Open the fuck up, Drake!” Drex demands, sounding pissed. “Or I’ll kick in the door.”
Oh no. No. No. No. He wasn’t supposed to sound pissed.
My palms are sweaty as I rake them over my jean shorts, standing up and taking a deep breath. Drake hesitates, but the loud pounding starts back up.
He tucks his gun in the back of his jeans before walking over and opening the door, using his body to block the path.
“Listen, she didn’t—”
“Move,” Drex growls, then suddenly he’s shouldering by Drake—who is a wall of muscle—and stalking toward me.
My heart flips when I see him, especially the relief that seems to cross his eyes. His head has stitches, starting just above his eyebrow and almost going into his hairline.
He’s a little bruised, but other than that, he seems fine.
Of course, my inner appraisal is cut short when he comes at me faster. I try not to gasp when he grabs me at the waist and jerks me to him. But my breath is gone when he crushes his lips to mine.
I definitely know the definition of melting now.
One hand goes to my hair as he angles my head, giving his tongue access to thoroughly explore me, kissing me stupid. It only takes a second for the shock to wear off so that I can react.
I kiss him back, hungrily searching and seeking, exploring and needing. He grips me tighter, pulling me off the floor until my legs are forced to wrap around his waist.
It’s the only kiss he’s ever initiated. It’s the only kiss he’s ever pushed for more. And it’s the hottest kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I’d almost forgo sex to continue kissing like this.
Almost.
He finally breaks the kiss, and I’m left panting for air like I’ve just run a marathon. His forehead presses against mine, while he tries to breathe as well.
“Alright. Guess that means he’s not killing you,” Drake says, a smirk in his tone.
Drex glares over his shoulder at him, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his lips graze my forehead with a sweet touch that conflicts with Drex’s hard nature. Drake walks over to us until he’s beside us, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at us like he’s amused.
“Let’s get back to the warehouse. We have a mess to sort through. Drake, you’re coming with us.”