Page 13

Our main warehouse was burned down a couple days ago because we have a rat in our circle, causing us to shit where we eat today-at the club-when it comes to business. None of us like it, but it's the safest option at the moment.

I know I should be in there with the guys, and I will be soon, but first I'm getting my dick sucked. It's been weeks since I made a mess of Harlyn against the bar, and I haven't had any action since then. My dick has decided it doesn't want to work for anyone except him and it's unacceptable.

Tosha/ Trisha, or whatever the fuck her name is moans in my ear as I kiss my way down her neck. Her hand comes between us to rub my limp dick and her movements waver for a second before she puts more power behind them. She kisses my neck next, and I tilt my head back to focus on the sensations of her soft touch.

Blue eyes appear behind my closed lids, and I feel my dick twitch in my pants when Harlyn's body intrudes on my imagination. I grow furious with myself for wanting him and his softness instead of the textbook men and woman I’ve surrounded myself with lately.

Just this once. . .

I haven't been able to get off properly in weeks and if thinking of him will get the job done, then so be it.

I lift my head so I can get this show on the road now that I'm hard and wanting, but freeze when I see the fucker himself standing at the door.

Apart from the orgasm I somehow gave him and the psychotic break he unleashed, Harlyn is typically a closed vault. Until now at least. His delicate face showcases the hurt he's feeling at this moment and my breath catches momentarily. Then he's running away.

“Harlyn!”

I don’t bother saying goodbye to my one-night stand before I give chase. How dare he look like a kicked puppy because I was hooking up with someone else? We’ve made out one time and I have made it very clear I haven't trusted him from the second he arrived here. He’s reacting as if we are some exclusive couple and I've never even been in a relationship before.

He's a fucking child.

Things take a nerve wrecking turn when he enters through the door I know my brothers are through, conducting business. His appearance threw me off kilter and I forgot what I was supposed to be doing here in the first place.

To put it simply, he's fucked. The idea sends a sharp pain through my chest, and I hurry to catch up with him. Maybe he has an explanation for showing up here on a random morning when nobody is scheduled to be here.

Who am I kidding? This is exactly what I have been trying to tell everyone about him.

I barrel through the door and stop short when I see a gun already pressed to Harlyn's head.

I expect him to break his composure once more and plead for his life, but he's motionless. Not a tremble from head to tiny toes on this one and it's like I can feel the pent-up energy radiating off him.

Ressyn and Beige are here, and both do not look happy. Although Beige does look a bit deep in thought as his eyes bore into Harlyn.

My gaze flicks back to the gun that will take his life if he doesn't start explaining himself, like yesterday.

“Lower your weapon or I cannot be faulted for your death sir.”

His voice pieces the quiet room holding a certain promise. The tone is different from what I'm used to. Shifted somehow, and there is a gleam in his eyes I don’t recognize that sets me on edge.

Ricket, Shane Garbara’s right hand man snorts at Harlyn's expense. “Read the room fucker.”

My heart beats out of my chest and may as well be laying on the floor. I don’t know what I thought he was going to say. Maybe something along the lines of pleading his case. He's a nut job to be in a room full of people-guns at the ready with one resting at his head-and still say some crazy shit like that.

A visible full body shiver shakes his body, and my eyes widen when a familiar moan sounds. My gaze leaves the scene for a split second to see Res hold up a hand to halt any of our men’s movement. No doubt curious to see this play out.

Taking my eye off the minx was an obvious mistake. Ricket’s fucking dead.

Holy shit.

He’s splayed on the floor with a jagged line splitting him open from throat to mid stomach. Harlyn has somehow produced two knifes in each hand and he scans Garbara’s men with a sinister smile that borders insane. Blood is coating him as his entire being dares anyone to step forward and do something about it. When his fucked-up smile grows, I think that’s what he actually wants.

We definitely should have learned more about him or tried asking more questions before we allowed him into our life and sanctuary. There isn’t a lick of the gentle person he has led us all to believe him to be. Well, everyone except me, but this supersedes any idea's I may have had.

Everyone seems to hold their breath before chaos ensues.

Our side remains still, complying to Ressyn’s order while several of Garbaras men move together all at once. I couldn’t tell you why, but fear skates through me once more on Harlyn's behalf. Just because I don’t trust him doesn't mean... I don’t know, and if I can't even finish that thought, then the feeling clearly has no place shaking me to my core. It feels as if every inch of my being is screaming at me to move, to stop this. Only I can't.

Rickets death has clearly affected them a great deal. The fury released in waves is so potent, I can taste it. The next thing I know knifes are being flung through the air with the kind of speed and agility that showcases what must be years of training. His movements are defined with an almost elegant gait to them that is all Harlyn, causing my cock to twitch.

Not now, Jesus.

He’s pulling knifes out from literally everywhere. His waistband, his boots, even from under the loose sleeves of his T-shirt. Does he always carry those?

He's hit every target he’s aimed for, and five men have died before one manages to reach him.

My mind screams at me to rip a man’s hands off when they wrap around Harlyn's throat from behind.

When a gunshot sounds my knees wobble.

No.

No, no, no, no.