“He said a reliable source told him, but he never told us who that was,” Thomas says, groaning in pain. “That’s all I know.”
“Who’s leaving threatening notes for Harper?” I growl.
His eyes snap to mine and widen. “What? I have no fucking idea, but it’s not us. We all love Harper, we’d never put her danger,” he whispers.
Before I realize it, I am punching him. Hit after hit to the face. Blood is dripping from his brow and lip before Kace pulls me off. “You all put her in danger every fucking day. No one protected her. Don’t you ever say you love her again. I will fucking kill you now,” I yell.
“Fuck you,” he shouts. “The threatening letters aren’t from us.”
I spin around and look at my club. I run my hands through my hair, before scrubbing my face. “Well?”
“I believe him,” Riley says. Alex and Porter agree.
I look at Kace and he shrugs. “I think he’s given us as much as he’s gonna. I’m not sure it’s the entire truth, but it’s more than I expected.”
“I agree with Kace,” Brooks says.
Of course, he does. Nothing came out that would have anyone believe he’s mixed up in this shit. His ass is safe, and he loves that. It has my skin burning with rage. Brooks is gonna walk away with his secrets safe.
“I’m not a rat, but I have a family. Let me go and I’ll find all the information you’re after,” Thomas pleads.
A gunshot rings in my ears as I watch Thomas’ body go limp. A shot straight in the head. I spin around and see Brooks putting his gun back in his waistband.
“What the fuck? You fucking killed him!” I yell.
“He was no use to us anymore,” Brooks says.
I rush to him and grab his shirt with both hands, causing him to stumble back. He holds himself up and I get right in his face. My nose is touching his, my anger pouring off of me. “He was no use, or he was going to go digging for things you want buried?” I whisper, through clenched teeth.
I’m ripped off of him by Enzo and Riley. Brooks straightens his shirt, shaking his head. “You’re losing your grip on reality, boy,” Brooks growls.
“Z, relax. We were gonna kill him anyway,” Kace whispers.
Enzo’s hard eyes are drilling into me. His hands are steepled in front of his mouth as he breathes heavily.
This mother fucker just shot Thomas because he volunteered to get us the information we want. How the hell can I be the only one who sees this? I turn to look at Brooks and he has a smirk on his face as he takes a drag of his smoke. This asshole.
“I’m with Brooks on this, Z. You need to chill the fuck out. We got plenty of information from him, and you know damn well he wouldn’t have given us anything else. He’s a Vegas King with little loyalty. He got what he deserved. Now, pull your goddamn head out of your ass and focus. Enough of this shit. Get yourself under control,” Enzo hisses. He turns his attention to Porter and Alex. “Clean this mess up and get rid of him. Everyone else, lets go.”
They all walk out and Kace grabs my upper arm. “You’re out of control, Z. I’m on your side always, brother, but you’re gonna get yourself killed. Brooks is the president of this club. You can’t keep going at him like that. I can feel the anger rolling off you. You need to do something to relax, anything.”
I don’t say a word, I just nod as we leave. There’s only one thing that can relax me at this point...Harper.
12
Harper
I put the last curl in my hair and unplug the curling iron. I step back to look at myself in the mirror and sigh. My dark brown hair is perfect, curled and hanging down my back. My makeup is flawless, making my blue eyes pop and my lips appear plumper. My body was always something I was proud of and I loved to show off my curves. But my scar is making me lose sight of it all. This bra used to be my favorite. The way the lace and satin hugged my breasts flawlessly, giving me a great amount of cleave. But standing here with one of Zane’s button-down shirts on, open, staring at myself, it does nothing. The only thing I notice is the scar.
“Hey babe,” Zane says, walking in the room.
I scream and tighten the shirt around me. “What the fuck, Z? I’m trying to get ready here,” I yell. I’m embarrassed. He hasn’t seen the scar since that night in the shower when I first got home. He’s asked, but I always deny him. I don’t want him looking at me differently. Whenever he brings it up, I change the subject. I’d rather not even think about it.
I hold the shirt closed as I look for something to wear in the closet. I feel him behind me before he even says a word. My body reacts and I beg it to stop.
“Why are you yelling at me?” he whispers, moving my hair off my shoulder.
My back is to him, so I close my eyes to try to think of anything but how good it feels with him so close to me. His smell is wrapping around me, his breath is blowing on my neck, and his voice is deep and sexy. My body takes notice regardless.