by Eva Ashwood
The crowd grows and shrinks and moves around us as people come to join or leave occasionally to flood the bar between songs. In the gaps between people, I can just make out the sight of Levi, Rory, and Sloan, standing in the same spot and looking like they’re having an absolutely terrible time.
None of them are smiling, and Sloan looks particularly surly, but I don’t care. It’s my first night of freedom, the first time I’ve felt truly free since this whole mess started, and I’m not going to let his continuing bad mood ruin my night.
I turn so that my back is to them and start working it to the next song that comes on, a remix of a song that was popular half a decade ago. It’s old, but it gets the crowd hyped all the same.
Scarlett’s dancing in front of me, her eyes closed and a smile on her face. When a guy slides into a free spot behind her and starts dancing with her, she just goes with it, grinding back on him and dropping it low to the beat of the song. I laugh, glad to see her enjoying herself, and even happier to be here with her. I keep dancing, letting the beat take over, my body moving to the rhythm.
A few seconds later, I can feel someone moving in behind me, pressing themselves close to my back and then a little closer. I turn my head to see a guy, taller than me with sandy blond hair and dark eyes. He grins, and I smile back before turning around again and pressing back into him more.
There’s a low chuckle that I can just barely hear over the music, and he puts his hands on my waist so he can drag me even further back. I match my movements to his, grinding on him, swaying my ass and letting the slow, thumping beat of the song set the pace.
It’s easy like this, just to lose myself in it. Not worrying about anything, just out with my best friend, feeling the beat of the song and the adrenaline of having a good time working through me.
I think about getting another drink once the song is over, or finding another partner to dance with, and it’s almost like things are back to the way they were before all this shit started. They aren’t, but it’s much easier to pretend when I don’t have Sloan and his cronies in my face or climbing up my ass about what I want to do.
I catch Scarlett’s eye, and she gives me an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up. I shake my head but laugh anyway.
There’s a second where the song is about to change, the beat of the new one fading in over the beat of the old one, and I push my hair back out of my face, feeling the sweat from being packed in with so many other people beading on my brow.
Before the next song can even play, I hear a sudden yelp and a curse from the guy behind me. I barely have time to look over my shoulder into the suddenly vacated space before I’m being lifted up and slung over a strong, broad shoulder.
For a second, I’m too stunned to do anything, and I look down, trying to figure out who the fuck has their hands on me. I recognize the back of the shirt and the pants as the outfit Sloan was wearing.
Of fucking course.
“Let me go,” I snarl. But it’s mostly lost as the song picks up steam, the thumping beat blaring through the space.
With long, heavy strides, Sloan starts carrying me out of the club, and I’m left with the sight of Scarlett staring at me, open mouthed.
She’s not the only one either. Everyone who was dancing around us is looking, wide eyed, and I can feel humiliation burning through me, hot on the heels of the ever-present annoyance that these guys make me feel.
We’re outside almost before I’ve processed what’s happening. The air outside is like a slap in the face after the close heat of being packed in with so many other bodies, but my face is still flushed with embarrassment and anger.
Raising my arm, I bring my elbow down hard against Sloan’s side, right above his kidney. He grunts in pain, his body tensing up instinctively against the blow.
I elbow him again, and he sets me down hard. The second I’m on my feet, I lunge for him, trying to get my knee between his legs so I can slam it right into his balls. He twists, avoiding the strike, and holds me at arm’s length, gray eyes snapping with fury.
“We’re not here to be your personal fucking bodyguards when you attract low-lives by grinding on their junk on the dance floor,” he practically spits.
I narrow my eyes at him, arms folded. He’s being a jerk, but that’s nothing new. He’s been a jerk since the moment I met him. What is new is the possessive look in his eyes and the way he’s being so damn over-protective. What does he care if I grind with a stranger in the club? It’s none of his fucking business.
“Fuck off,” I shoot back. “You told me we could go out tonight, and I’ll dance with whoever the fuck I want. You don’t like it? Don’t watch.”
I turn to go back into the club, but Rory grabs me around the waist and starts towing me back to the car. He pins my arms by my sides in a move that reminds me of the first night I met him, when he dragged me away from the locker room where I was trying to protect my dad.
I didn’t even see him or Levi step outside with us. But they’re both here, of course. These three are like each other’s shadows, constantly together, always backing each other up.
“Come on, Hurricane,” Rory grunts.
I struggle against his hold, but that just reminds me that he’s the only one of these three who’s actually a trained fighter. He dodges my attempt at a headbutt again, and as the few people who are gathered outside the club turn to look at us, I have to weigh how much of a fight I want to make this.
If I get the cops called on these guys or something, I doubt that’ll go well for my dad. Or me.
We end up in the back seat as usual, and Rory pulls me right down into his lap. Now that no one can see us, I resume my struggles, fighting his hold. The last thing I want is to be held right now, but he’s not letting go.
I think about elbowing him right in the chest, but even as I consider it, I realize that he’s not upset at all about my struggling. Far from it, judging from the hardness I can feel under my ass. It’s just like when we were sparring, and he pressed that long, hard length against me.
My face is hot, but it’s not just from being pissed anymore, and I feel a flash of arousal burn through me, right alongside my anger and embarrassment. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been manhandled this way, but it’s becoming too much of a trend with these fucking assholes.
As much as I hate it, I have to admit there’s something hot about the way they can just pick me up and put me where they want me to be. It turns me on, and I fight the urge to clench my legs together and feed the fire that’s trying to spread.
Levi starts the car, and as we pull away from the curb, I take that opportunity to crawl out of Rory’s lap, breaking his hold finally as he relaxes his grip. He’s still grinning, and I try my best to ignore him, pulling out my phone so I can text Scarlett and let her know what happened.
There’s already a message from her waiting for me, and I sigh softly when I read it.
SCAR: Holy shit!!! R u okay????
ME: Fine. The guys are just being dicks. Not allowed to dance now, apparently.
SCAR: Ugh, fuck them. We were having fun! And who just carries someone out of a club like that??
Her next text is just a bunch of angry emojis that almost make me smile. Before I can type anything back, the little bubble that indicates Scarlett is still typing pops up, so I wait.
SCAR: You should have seen their faces tho. Rory and Levi were behind Sloan, and they all looked jealous as hell. Sloan looked like he was about to kill someone as soon as that guy put his hands on you.
I blink in surprise as I read her message. I can definitely believe that Sloan looked like he wanted to kill that guy because he always kind of looks like he wants to murder someone, but the other two being jealous? For what? They didn’t want to dance with me. They just want me to be miserable and bored, apparently.
ME: I think they were just pissed off that I made them come out.
SCAR: You didn’t see it. There was definitely jealousy there. I’m tell
ing you!
I quickly turn my phone over on my lap so none of the guys can see my screen or the texts, then angle my body and stare out the window, brow furrowed.
There’s no way Scarlett is right. She must be reading too much into it and thinking there’s something there when it’s not. I can’t believe they would be jealous just because some random dude was grinding on me.
They don’t even like me.
There’s no fucking way.
13
The drive back home feels like it takes fucking forever.
And the longer I think about what happened at the club, the more pissed off I get. Every time I try to do something for myself, something to have fun and try to forget about how shitty things are, one of them comes in and fucks it up. They act like they have the right to dictate what I can do and who I can do it with, and for what?
Because they think I’m going to run? Because they don’t trust me? Probably all of that and a big dash of disrespect thrown in too.
They treat me like some kind of child half the time and try to ignore me the other half, except for Rory, who likes to alternate between treating me like a child and treating me like a future hookup. The point is, they don’t treat me like someone with wants and thoughts and feelings of her own. They act like I need them to intervene on my behalf, even though I’ve been living my life perfectly fine for years before they came crashing into it.
I threw myself at their mercy to save my dad, agreeing to live with the three of them for an indefinite amount of time with no questions asked. I haven’t objected once to being followed around every time I go to class. I’ve never made it seem like I’m a flight risk, and they still don’t have enough common sense to realize I’m not going anywhere.
Where would I even go? They own most of the city, and there are Black Rose members all over the damn place. How would I escape them? And why would I abandon my dad? He’s all I have, and there’s no way in hell I would risk it.
We finally pull up back at the house, and I’m out of the car before any of them can say anything. I stomp inside once Sloan’s unlocked the door, fully intending to go up to my room and barricade myself inside for the rest of the weekend so I don’t have to deal with this bullshit.
Levi stops me before I can even get to the stairs. “What’s your problem?” he asks, arms folded and one eyebrow arched as he cuts off my escape route.
I stare at him, shocked that he would even ask me something like that after what just happened.
“Oh, I don’t know, Levi,” I snap, the anger I’ve been feeling since Sloan grabbed me coming through in my voice. “Maybe it was being dragged out of the club when I just wanted to have a night out with my best friend? I’m sorry, being dragged would have been more dignified, actually. I was thrown over Sloan’s shoulder like a fucking sack of potatoes in front of everyone and then hauled out like I’m some kind of naughty child when all I wanted was to blow off a little steam!”
“You were—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I cut him off, raising a hand. “I already got it from Sloan about how you’re not my bodyguards. Make it my fault, whatever.”
Levi just sighs, but Rory grins, as per fucking usual. “If you want to blow off steam so bad, we can take you out,” he says.
I narrow my eyes at him. Even in the face of my anger, they’re all so fucking confident and bossy. They ruin my plans and then come up with their own, and I’m just supposed to fall in line with them and do what they say.
I have half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself and go up to my room like I planned, but I’m still feeling stir-crazy from being cooped up for so long, and… I’m a little curious what he’s talking about. I have no idea what Black Roses do for fun, other than destroy people’s lives, but it might be interesting to find out. Maybe.
“Fine,” I say, letting out a breath. “Whatever.”
Rory laughs. “Don’t let us twist your arm, Hurricane. If you’d rather go up to your room and sulk, you can do that instead.”
“Fuck off,” I reply, but it’s lacking a bit of heat.
Levi cracks a smile finally, and he seems interested in the idea of taking me out. Sloan, surprising no one, seems reluctant and displeased.
“Are you sure?” he asks Rory, pinning him with a look.
Rory just shrugs. “Sure, why not? She’ll be fine, and we all do deserve a night out.”
Sloan sighs and then nods once. “Fine.”
With his agreement, we all get back in the car to head out again.
This time, we head to a part of town that I’m familiar with but haven’t been around much before. It’s less nice than the part with the university campus, and there aren’t droves of college students hanging out drinking and smoking. It reminds me more of the area surrounding the warehouse where my dad trains and fights, and there are groups of people gathered on corners and near buildings, talking and laughing but clearly on their guard.
It’s not the kind of place you’d want to end up in alone, definitely.
I live in a bad neighborhood, and Scarlett grew up in one that’s pretty much the same. I’ve got enough street smarts to know that this isn’t somewhere I’d want to be at night if I didn’t have these three men with me.
Speaking of the assholes, all three of them seem as comfortable in this atmosphere as they do at their house, so I figure it can’t be that bad if they brought me here. The Black Rose gang can clearly blend in anywhere in the city, from the fancy places where they need to have their expensive car valet parked, to run-down buildings that look like they’re exclusively used for sketchy drug deals.
Must be nice to have that kind of confidence.
That kind of power.
We pull up to a building that looks like some abandoned warehouse but smaller from the outside, with no identifying markers other than the cars parked outside and the lights in the windows. I wonder if the Black Roses do anything important in places that aren’t run down and creepy, but I keep that thought to myself. My thoughts drift back to the gas station they brought me to at the beginning of all of this, and I guess it makes sense for them to spend time and do their business in places where they don’t have to worry about being bothered.
We go inside, and I glance around the space as we enter. There are a bunch of guys hanging out, sitting in chairs talking and playing cards. From the inside, it’s clear that this is some kind of run-down training gym, and it’s apparently where the Black Rose guys come to hang out and chill on the weekend or whenever.
There’s nothing fancy or overstated about it either. Everything is old but serviceable, with a low counter off to the side where drinks are being made. It’s mostly beer and dark liquor from what I can tell, and I grab a cup of something and follow the three of them farther in.
As soon as we walk in, people stop and greet the guys. It makes sense, considering Sloan is the leader’s son and all, and the other two seem just as well-known, either from their own reputations or because they come as some kind of package deal with Sloan.
A burly guy with a buzz cut and tattoos spreading from his neck down over his shoulders comes over and gives Rory a fist bump. He eyes me curiously and then flicks his gaze over to Sloan. I wonder when the last time was that some random girl got brought to this place, and I don’t blame him for seeming slightly confused about my presence.
“This is Mercy,” Rory tells him when Sloan doesn’t seem inclined to say anything. “She’s a friend of ours.”
I snort but don’t contradict him. It’s probably better to keep my mouth shut about what’s really going on if the rest of these guys don’t already know.
“Hey,” the man says, nodding. “Jesse.”
I nod back, and a few others make their way over to satisfy their curiosity. Rory handles the introductions as the most open and sociable one of my three keepers, introducing me as their “friend” Mercy to everyone who comes forward. I pay close attention to every name, trying to associate them with faces and iden
tifying marks, just in case I ever need that information.
There’s a guy with dreads wound up into a bun at the top of his head. Another one with a blooming rose tattoo on his hand. Another with a scar through his eyebrow. I would have expected them to be more on their guard about a stranger in their midst, but it seems like they’re all in chill mode, drinking and laughing and relaxed. And I guess since I came with the son of Gavin Kennedy and his two friends, I get a pass.
It makes me relax a little, even though I definitely plan to stay on my guard and keep my eyes open. I’d planned to spend tonight not thinking about the Black Rose gang or anything going on with them, but in the middle of their den, I have to change my plan.
After a few minutes, the three men lead me to a little circle where a couch and some chairs have been set up, and I sit down on the couch, sipping what tastes like rum and coke from my cup while glancing around at everything.
There’s a pool table in one corner where a group is gathered around, laughing and joking while one of them steps up with the cue. The card game is still going on, a new hand being dealt while the dealer gives the players shit about losing all their money.
In the center of the room is a large ring, clearly for fighting, and I perk up even more when I see it. There’s nothing like a good fight to really blow off some steam, and I’d even settle for just watching, since I’m not exactly dressed to get in the ring in my short dress from clubbing.
Rory and Levi plop down on either side of me, leaving Sloan to take one of the arm chairs, holding a drink in his hand. I’m sort of sandwiched in between the two of them, and I can feel the heat from their bodies and smell their cologne. Each time one of them shifts, they brush against me, and it’s like those places are hyper sensitive, radiating the light touch through the rest of my body.
But that is so not what I want to be focusing on right now, so I shove it down, taking a large gulp from my cup to try to think about anything else.