Page 22 of Tinsel & Chrome
Tex
She’s back.
The moment Larissa walked through that door, the air shifted. The kind of shift you can feel deep in your bones—the one that warns a storm’s about to hit. And fuck, if Larissa isn’t the fiercest storm I’ve ever seen.
She stands there, chin high, eyes blazing despite the bruise marring her cheek. The same stubborn fire she’s always had, burning brighter for the shit she’s just clawed her way through. It does something to me. Arouses me. Infuriates me.
I should’ve been there.
Cyclops’s hands are balled into fists. Mace’s face is tight with barely restrained fury. We all want the same thing—to know the bastard’s name and leave him in a ditch somewhere, bloody and cold.
But Larissa’s holding onto that secret like it’s the last bit of control she has.
I watch as she walks past me, her scent—vanilla and something wild—lingering in the air. The woman’s been under my skin since we were kids. Off-limits because of Cyclops. Off-limits because of Mace. But the way she’s looking at me now...
The line we shouldn’t cross feels razor-thin.
I grab her wrist before she can slip away. She freezes, her eyes snapping to mine, and that spark of defiance hits me right in the chest.
“You’re not gonna shake me off that easy, princess,”
I say, my voice low.
Her jaw tightens.
“I don’t need saving, Tex.”
I lean in, my lips close to her ear.
“Too bad. You’re getting saved anyway.”
Her breath hitches, and I feel the slight tremor that runs through her. But Larissa’s never been one to back down. She turns her head, her lips nearly brushing mine.
“I told you, I handled it,”
she whispers, her voice hard but with an undercurrent of something else. Something that makes my blood run hot.
I tighten my grip on her wrist, just enough to make a point.
“Yeah? Then why are you here, Rissa? Why’d you come running back to the very place you swore you’d never return to?”
Her eyes flash, a mix of anger and pain that cuts straight through me. For a moment, I think she might actually take a swing at me. Instead, she leans in closer, her free hand fisting in my cut.
“Maybe I missed the smell of leather and bullshit,”
she hisses.
I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips.
“Bullshit, huh? That’s rich coming from you, princess.”
Larissa’s eyes narrow, but I see the flicker of uncertainty there. She’s always been good at putting up walls, but I’ve known her too long. I can see the cracks.
“Let. Me. Go,”
she grits out, each word sharp as a blade.
But I don’t. Instead, I pull her closer, until there’s barely a breath between us.
“Not until you tell me what really happened.”
For a moment, the mask slips. I see the fear, the exhaustion, the raw pain she’s trying so hard to hide. It makes me want to tear the world apart.
“Tex,”
she whispers, and there’s a plea in her voice that I’ve never heard before. “Please.”
It’s that word, that soft “please,”
that undoes me. I release her wrist, but I don’t step back. Can’t bring myself to put distance between us when she’s looking at me like that.
“Okay,”
I say, my voice rough.
“Okay, Rissa. But this isn’t over.”
She nods, a quick jerk of her head, before turning away. I watch as she makes her way to the back room, her steps faltering just slightly. It takes everything in me not to follow her.
“Jesus Christ,”
Mace mutters, running a hand over his face.
“This is a fucking mess.”
Cyclops hasn’t moved. His eyes fixed on the door Larissa disappeared through. There’s murder in his gaze.
“We need to know who did this,”
he says, his voice low and dangerous.
I nod, my fists clenching at my sides.
“We will. One way or another, we’ll find out.”
Cyclops turns his steely gaze on me.
“You seem awfully close to my daughter, Tex. Something I should know?”
There’s a threat in his words, barely veiled. I meet his eyes, unflinching.
“Nothing’s changed, Pres. I’ve always looked out for her. Same as everybody else.”
He holds my stare for a long moment before nodding, seemingly satisfied. But I can see the doubt lingering in his eyes. He knows me too well.
“We need a plan,”
Mace interjects, his voice tight with tension.
“Can’t just sit around with our thumbs up our asses while some fucker’s out there thinking he can lay hands on one of ours. On my goddamn baby sister.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration and anger warring inside me.
“We need to be smart about this. Larissa’s not gonna just give up the name. We push too hard, she’ll bolt again.”
Cyclops grunts, his face a mask of barely contained rage.
“Then we do it the old-fashioned way. Start asking questions. Someone knows something.”
“And if they don’t want to talk?”
Mace asks, a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Then we make them talk,”
Cyclops growls.