Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

His expression turned contemplative as he muttered, “Not big on nags.”

I sighed.

Then I cut him off on his next pass.

“And before you ask, no on Hattie as well. She had an abusive father. I think she’s had enough violence in her life.”

At that, his expression turned inquisitive and focused.

And his voice went soft when he noted, “You don’t have a very high opinion of me.”

Was he insane?

“You had one of your men hold a gun to one of my friends’ heads,” I reminded him. “And you had us all kidnapped. Your guys shot at our friend. And you threatened to torture us.”

And you’re a cop killer, I did not say out loud.

“We weren’t gonna torture you.”

“So when you said you were gonna do not-nice things to us, what did you mean?”

“I was losin’ steam on that the minute I walked in,” he shared. “Goes against the grain to mess up a hot chick.”

“But a chick you consider not hot is fair game?”

His dark, heavy brows jumped together. “Shit, you a feminist?”

“Yes,” I retorted. “But it isn’t just feminists who aren’t fond of dudes messing up chicks of any persuasion.”

He twisted toward me.

Fabulous.

Now we were having a full-on conversation.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” he asked.

“I am scared. But at this juncture, I’m more scared my dad is gonna do something stupid, screw things up, and put me and my girls back in danger.”

“You probably shouldn’t have told me that,” he warned quietly.

“You know my dad. You’re preparing for the same thing.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, still quietly.

I drew a sharp breath into my nose and looked out the window.

And to the window, I asked, “Can we make another deal?”

“Say it and I’ll consider,” he offered.

I looked back to him. “If Dad fucks this up, do whatever you intend to do to me. But let the girls go.”

“Hate to say it, Evan, but I got more leverage with all of you. Hawk’ll cave. Nightingale will too. Chaos would hand deliver that gun to me, tied with a bow if I asked, if it got a woman out of deep shit. Definitely four of them.”

Evidence was suggesting I totally had the wrong end of the stick in my thoughts about dudes in motorcycle clubs.

“Right, then, let Pepper go so she can get home to Juno.”

I hated making a deal that might keep Hattie and Ryn in deep shit.

But…

Juno.

When he didn’t respond, I begged, “Please.”

His eyes moved over my face.

I let him do this and I managed it without squirming.

He then whispered, “You really are not shit like your dad and brother.”

“No, I’m not,” I whispered back.

We stared at each other.

Then finally, he said, “I’ll let the hot mom go.”

My shoulders slumped and I said with feeling, “Thank you.”

“Nerd girl,” he murmured pensively, his eyes roaming my face. “Smart girl. Ballsy girl. Who’da thought?”

Okay, I’d successfully held it back, twice.

But I was thinking now, I was going to hurl.

He slid a few inches across the seat my way and I braced to stay strong.

“I got a lotta money, baby,” he cajoled softly. “And I wouldn’t let anything touch you. That life would be that life and you wouldn’t even know it was happening. I’d take good care of you. I guarantee you that.”

“In a way, I’ve had someone in my life who lives that life, I didn’t know it, and look where I am, Cisco.”

“My name is Brett.”

How weird this guy had a normal name and his parents didn’t name him Butch or Ebenezer or Boris or something.

He slid back. “And I take your point.”

I released another breath and looked again out the window.

“Just to say, life happens, and it molds you into who you are.”

He was defending his path to evil villainy.

I did not think so.

“Just to say,” I told the window, “the same life happened to me and my brother and my brother chose who he is, and I chose something different.”

There was a moment of silence before he muttered, “Girl like you could make me see the error of my ways.”

I turned back to him at that.

“A girl like me has spent her whole life trying to guide people to the right path. She’s failed. Repeatedly. And seriously, she’s goddamned, fucking tired, Brett.”

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” he murmured, and honest to God, he looked like the words he spoke were true.

I turned fully to him and slid a bit his way this time, and I did it to say, “You know, when you find a woman who holds a piece of that heart, remember this conversation, and don’t tire her out.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for long beats before he nodded.

I slid away, righted myself in the seat, crossed my arms on my chest and watched out the front window.

I heard his movements and knew he was on his phone, but as far as I was concerned, our conversation was over.