In Silence She Screams (Midnight Mayhem 3)

Fucking ridiculous.

But this new pet that she has brought in is the enemy.

You type villain into Google and it will give you the mug shot of Lilith Patience. Silver hair, pale skin, a pout that would bring most men to their knees just imagining what those lips would look like wrapped around their cocks. That’s not even mentioning those lilac eyes. Fucking lilac eyes. Don’t know how that happened and don’t give enough of a fuck about it to ask how they turned out like that.

“What?” Keaton follows behind me as I make my way to Perse and King’s RV. “What do you mean, a new member?”

I open the door to yet another problem. Welcome to Midnight Mayhem, where we fuck with your head because our heads fuck us on the daily. “What the fuck?”

Perse is perched over their dining table, massaging her temples with her eyes closed. King points to the empty chairs beside him. “Sit the fuck down. She doesn’t need any more stress.”

“Why?” the ‘new member’ at the table asks, kicking out his leg in a way that seems way too fucking comfortable. “You pregnant?” He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. Short black hair, eyes that seem to always get just enough sleep, and a fucking jaw sharp enough to match mine. When he smiles, something crawls over my skin. Distrust, I figure. I was too busy scanning the new member that I missed what he just said and how everyone in the room is reacting to it right now.

“Hold up, you’re pregnant?” Keaton slowly lowers himself onto one of the chairs, a hand covering his mouth. He seems shocked; I’m truly not. It was only a matter of time.

“Yes, but I’m not quite twelve weeks, so I’d rather everyone not find out yet.”

“Done.” Keaton pinches his fingers together to make the international hand signal for zipping your lips. From the outside, Keaton is scary. One big scary motherfucker, but the side that we see of him is different. Keaton isn’t scary. He is coping.

I raise my hands, not saying a word. I can’t be fucked with baby drama or any of this shit, because why the fuck is the member here and what does he want with my family.

“Bro, take a seat. We need to chat.” King points to the chair opposite the newcomer.

I slowly lower myself down. “What the fuck is happening?”

“This is Eli.” King gestures to him. “You remember him? He’s a King.”

Recognition washes over me way too fucking coldly for my liking. I scoff. “Yeah, alright. What’s he doing here?” The Elite Kings Club is too exhausting to touch right now, and if this night carries on the way it’s going, I’m going to end up drinking myself into a coma.

Eli purposely doesn’t look at me. “The six power families, and we’re both a part of one of them. Which means, we all have enemies. I’m here to make sure that you’re not one of ours.”

“Not gonna be subtle about your spying?” I reach for my pack of smokes in my pocket and bite the trunk between my teeth. I’m hoping I can smoke out the ice in my tone.

He scans me up and down before settling on my face. I narrow my eyes on him right as the corner of his mouth curves into a grin. “Now why would I do that when I could just be honest?” I pause, curling my thumb beneath the hood of my metal Zippo, igniting a flame and burning the end of my cigarette.

I blow out a cloud and rest my hand over my thigh. “How long you gonna be here for?”

“Okay, stop. I’m asking the questions here,” Perse says, reaching forward and snatching the smoke from between my fingers before killing it in a glass of whiskey. She glares at me. “Seriously, Ky. The worst uncle already.”

“Shit, sorry, P.” I shuffle up my chair. “Go on.”

“Eli is here strictly on EKC business,” King says, hooking his arm around Perse’s waist to move her onto his lap. “He’ll run the books while he’s here, and then when Bishop Vincent Hayes is satisfied that we’re not working against them, he’ll leave.”

I run my hand over my chin. “Not gonna take our word for it?” I ask Eli.

His eyes come to mine. There’s sin lurking in those hazel eyes, and I’d bet my bottom dollar that he has no problem allowing people to repent on a Sunday just to let them touch it again on a Monday. Or at least think they’re touching it, because the rim of that hazel is a dark green, and we all know green is the color of mystery and deceit.

“Nah. Would rather ride. That going to be a problem for you?”

I grind my teeth, clenching my fist over my knee until the veins swell against my skin. “You?” I scan him up and down. “No.”