Page 20

The walls felt too fucking close, and it wasn’t because of the plants. Sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows braced on my knees, I stared at my bruised knuckles like they held answers I’d never get.

Even after a shower and bourbon on the rocks, I still hadn’t shaken off the day.

I’ve been too distracted. I was never careless with security, but now that I was a partner in the gym, I should have insisted on more manpower like my Club Fetish locations had.

Between developing feelings for Ri and trying to find Rev’s killer, my mind had been all over the place.

It’s the same goddamn crew from Tennessee.

When Santari escaped to her room when we got home, Titan, Storm, and I exchanged notes on what we noticed during the shootout.

Those muthafuckas were wearing the same dark green that those bastards wore on the mountain when Rev was killed.

I had even called my brother Sinceer to make sure that scumbag, Ralph Little, hadn’t had any scorned family to avenge his death.

He didn’t, so that brought us back to what we suspected.

My clubs were always poppin’ and swarming with too many witnesses had they tried something at one of my locations.

Therefore, they targeted the gym because they were tryin’ to take me out.

And if they knew to find me there, then as much as I didn’t even want to think it, all roads led back to Baarbie …

my brother and the man who I hadn’t been able to track down ever since we let him go after we killed Calvin.

Junkies didn’t just disappear.

Unless they were more alert than they put on.

When Mekhi sent us photos of the men we killed, we went through each one of them on a preliminary search to see if anyone looked familiar before we dug into them more.

As suspected, I knew a few of those dark green muthafuckas …

and so did Baarbie. In fact, a couple of them had been his boys back in the day.

I released a frustrated exhale, my mind cluttered. For tonight at least, the fight was over. But in my mind, it was a war zone. Sleep wouldn’t come. Not after a day like this, and definitely not after the look of fear on Ri’s face and the anguish in her voice that would hunt me for years to come.

Standing from my bed, I welcomed the coldness of the wooden floor as I kept my steps light while my bare feet moved through the house.

I knew every hallway in our place like the back of my hand, but now, those halls seemed to stretch too long and too empty in front of me, my chest tightening as if I’d been running for hours but never got anywhere.

Her door wasn’t locked when I reached her, but it should’ve been. I’d punish her for that later. For now, I just needed to see her. I pushed it open without it making a sound, since just last week she’d asked me to put more oil on the hinges.

The room smelled like her the moment I stepped inside, so fuckin’ intoxicating I couldn’t help but inhale and hold it in for a few seconds. Moonlight bled through the curtains and cast a warm glow over her bed, her body curled into itself like the world outside was trying to rip her apart.

I didn’t second-guess my actions as I slid onto the empty side of her bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. Each part of my body was still wired, every muscle tight. But here, next to her, the storm raging inside of me started to settle.

But then she stirred, and her breath hitched, her body jolting before she even opened her eyes.

“Shh,” I murmured, my hand reaching beneath the sheets to thread my fingers through hers. “It’s just me.”

She stilled, her pulse thumping against my palm in fast and erratic spurts.

“Cruz?” she whispered, her voice smoky, but still soft and beautiful.

I exhaled slowly, letting my thumb brush her palm in circles. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”

The tension in her body melted, and I couldn’t deny that just her relaxing next to me instantly made me feel better. But she didn’t say anything. Just watched me in the moonlight, like she was tryin’ to read me and see inside of the cracks that I didn’t let other people poke at.

“Are you okay?” I asked her. “I know you’re scared about your feelings for me … for the guys. And today was a crash course in some of the intense and unexpected bullshit that comes with what we do.”

I gently grazed the bottom of her chin. “And if you are, you should be scared. Shit got real tonight. But you wanna know what kept me from losing my fuckin’ mind out there?”

She didn’t answer, just kept staring at me, her eyes tuggin’ at every emotion I had.

“You,” I admitted. “Every time I got close to the edge, you were what pulled me back. When I fight, I see red. I feel nothing but the need to destroy. But you … You kept me from losing myself. And while I enjoy a good fight, tonight I needed to not lose myself.”

She swallowed, her fingers tightening around mine.

“It didn’t used to be like this,” I confessed. “The way your voice cuts through the noise. The way your touch doesn’t only set my nerves on fire but calms them. The way you look at me, like I’m not just violence wrapped in flesh. Like I’m still human even though I love to swim in danger.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

I exhaled hard, closing my eyes for a beat before opening them again. “I never told you this,” I murmured, “and only the guys know, but a couple years ago, I found out that I’m on the spectrum.”

She blinked rapidly, her voice barely above a whisper when she asked, “Are you okay?” not in disbelief, just surprise.

I smirked, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, I’m workin’ on it daily. It surprised the shit outta me, too. Most of the time I still feel like myself, but other times, it just takes a while to understand how I fit in certain social situations.”

Her soft, sultry eyes studied mine. “I know that gets hard since you’ve always enjoyed talking to people.”

I nodded. “It does. But when I thought about the way I’ve always been, and the way my brain processes shit, it made sense.

How I fixate on certain things and the way I need structure in threes.

Three best friends. At least three relatives who I needed to keep in constant contact with. Three club locations.”

“Is that why you have this tattoo?” she asked, her delicate fingers grazing the tat that I had on one side of my neck of a snake shaped like three number threes.

“It is. Not only is the number itself powerful in symbolism and persuasion, but it’s a reminder that I have a purpose.

” I placed my hand over hers. “In numerology, the number three symbolizes spiritual growth and represents a higher level of consciousness that uplifts and inspires others. It’s what I think my jokes do. Evoke emotion good or bad.”

She nodded in understanding. “And people often reference a list in the form of three things.”

“Because everything feels more complete with three.”

“I think I read once that it’s good luck, too,” she said.

“Yeah, it is. I got the tattoo and was living my life in threes before I ever got my diagnosis. There are a lot of things that I’m still figuring out,” I divulged, not taking for granted how intently she was listening.

“Like how I’ve always been obsessed with loud sounds, lights, and crowds because I’m learning that there are so many different kinds of autism.

Some have a higher sensitively to sounds, light, and crowds. But I?—”

“But you have a lower sensitively to those things,” she finished.

“Don’t forget, I know you. I think you always wanted to open the clubs because you also like controlling the aspects of it that intrigue you.

How much bass is decided for the music you play.

There are certain kinds of dim and mood lighting that you enjoy, but you’ve never liked fireworks or lasers.

And with the crowds in your clubs, you always keep it at a certain amount of people. Packed, but not overwhelming so.”

“Hmm, I didn’t think about it like that,” I told her, discovering another part of myself that I didn’t know.

“And when my clubs are packed, I’m usually scarce for as long as I can be.

Or at least, until I don’t feel overwhelmed by the fact that everyone expects to see always-got-a-joke Cruz.

But sometimes, I don’t feel like laughing.

So I guess with all of this, it’s why I’ve always felt different, but didn’t know why. ”

She reached out and brushed her fingertips against my lips, before dragging them up to my cheek. “Different is beautiful, Cruz.”

“Even if it means I can’t restrain myself sometimes?” I asked, failing to keep the vulnerability out of my voice. “My kinks. The violence.” Leaning closer, I inhaled her neck. “My need to fuck you every second of the day and twice on Sundays.”

Her lashes fluttered before they lowered.

“You don’t have to answer that,” I told her, my voice dropping.

“Just know that tonight, I needed you more than I needed air. And I don’t need you to fix me or try to make sense of it.

I just need you to be here. To be my light in the dark even if there is so much shit we still need to figure out.

I know I ain’t got a right to make his death about me, but losing Rev fucked up my center.

” I swallowed past my desire when she adjusted herself in bed, my voice deepening when I added, “But having you here feels like my core is back.”

Her eyes watered a bit, deep emotions cracking through her expression. When she moved closer and pressed her forehead to mine, I breathed her in, holding my breath until she said, “Even if I leave The Omega House, you’ll always have me.”

And I knew she meant it.

Santari and I have always had a unique friendship, and even when I promised Rev I wouldn’t touch her, in the back of my mind, I kinda knew that would be the one promise I would have to break in our friendship.