Page 38 of Velvet Chains

When I looked up, I caught the glow of Ruby’s tail lights disappearing around the corner.

She hadn’t seen.

She was safe.

For now.

Sirens were already swelling somewhere nearby. Someone must’ve seen the smoke, maybe the sparks of fire in the alley. I backed up a step, chest heaving, my pulse thunder in my ears.

The guy moaned, trying to roll over.

I stalked back and drove my fist into his side. “You do not fucking hurt her,” I said. Another hit. “You don’t fucking touch her.”

He grunted, tried to crawl away.

“Kieran, look—”

I hauled him back by the collar and slammed him down. “Do not fucking address me.”

I leaned in close, every word a blade.

“Do not touch Ruby Marquez. Do not follow her. Do not look at her. Tell Tristan’s men if they come within ten feet of her, I will burn their entire operation to the fucking ground. You hear me?”

He whimpered something, but I didn’t wait for a reply.

I stood there a second longer, fists trembling, blood roaring in my head.

I could’ve killed him.

I almost did.

Instead, I left him there, barely conscious, bleeding into the concrete as I darted back to my car. I felt the adrenaline choke me with every step, knew it wouldn’t fade for hours, knew nothing would take the edge off until she was in my arms. I imagined her getting home just in time for me to be there, waiting, telling her I would’ve gone through hell to get her back.

Fuck.

We were supposed to be careful. Distance was supposed to keep her safe. Supposed to keep her whole. Now my hands were shaking and I was sure she didn’t have time, that we didn’t have time, that Tristan’s people were already gunning for her. I tried to breathe. Tried to think. Tried to decide if I should call…if she’d even answer.

Sirens closed in, flooding the street with blue and red, and I shot away from the scene, tires squealing. If Dominic wasn’t dead, he’d tell them exactly who they were dealing with.

They wouldn’t like that.

I rounded the corner, gunning the engine. I parked, just for a second, as I watched the police get to Dominic. The lights of the sirens lit him up as the police picked him up.

I had to get to her first. But more than that, I had to protect her. And if she didn’t want me around, I was going to do it from the shadows.

I punched in the number of one of Tristan’s lieutenants; he ran most of Tristan’s ops, and he would be the one to talk to about that.

“Kieran?” he asked, when he picked up the phone.

“Brandon,” I said. “Dominic just got picked up by the cops. I was there. He tried to go after the district attorney. It looks really bad if they find us doing that, so let’s back off for now, okay? You’re interfering with distro and Tristan is going to be pissed.”

A lie, of course. But I was wondering if he was going to pick up on it at all.

Brandon’s reply was slow, like he hadn’t quite woken up or was running through every possible answer before picking one. “Hang on. Dom did what?”

“Brilliant fucking plan, right?” I leaned against the dashboard and watched the pulsing lights. “He botched it. I don’t know if he’ll talk, but he’ll be lucky if he’s not pissing out his kidneys for the next two weeks. Maybe don’t send an addict if you want something done quietly.”

Silence. Then a laugh, clipped and not really a laugh at all. “Dom’s a fuckup, we all knew that. Where’s your skin in this?”