Say It's Forever (Redemption Hills 2)

Then my tone went serious. “I’m going to put an end to your fear, Salem. I promise you that.”

Her nails scratched into my beard, and her voice became a plea. “I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt because of me.”

The grin I cracked was grim. “Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but I’ve been in far more precarious situations than this.”

Her throat tremored when she swallowed, and then she warily gave me a nod. “I need to get back to work.”

She turned and undid the lock.

I grabbed the picture and slipped it back onto its hook before I zipped my fly and buttoned my jeans as I followed her out.

As soon as I stepped out into the lobby, I felt it.

A heatwave of hate that blistered through the air.

Salem stumbled a step before she lifted her chin and breezed by her brother who was lurking by the window.

No doubt about it, he’d heard me banging the fuck out of her two minutes ago. Not that it was any of his business, but the asshole looked like he was about to explode, fucking red in the face, hands curled into fists, like he thought he had a say.

“Salem,” he grated.

“Don’t,” she said, lifting a hand and moving behind the counter. “Just don’t.”

Shooting me a look that could slay a lesser man, Darius gritted his jaw, looked at Salem once more, before he turned on his heel and stormed out through the door that led into the shop.

I followed.

“Darius.” My voice was low when I called after him.

He didn’t slow or turn. The only reaction he gave to me shouting at him was the flinch of his shoulders. He stalked for the bay where he’d been working.

I kept right up. “Want to talk to you, Darius.”

He spun on me, hands flying out to push me against the chest. “Told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

“You might not have noticed, but your sister is a big girl, she can make her own decisions.”

“Decisions that are going to get her killed,” he spat.

The assertion skewered through me, making me stumble a step before I got in his face, hissing back, “Bullshit. I have her. All I need is a name.”

He rattled a sarcastic, horrified sound. “You have her? You don’t have her. You have no fuckin’ clue.”

I took him by the collar. “Give me the bastard’s name.”

Darius writhed in an attempt to get free of my hold. “Fuck you.”

He shoved me again, and I stumbled back a step, just as he flew at me. Dude actually thought he was gonna start something in my shop.

I was getting ready to take him by the wrist when a bustle came from the side.

Brock was there, his scrawny arms pushed between us to keep us apart. “Hey, now, hey. Break it up. As much as I love me a good fight, last thing we need around here is blood spilled all over this floor. More work to do when we already have plenty. Play nice, boys. Clearly, you both love the same girl, for different reasons. Least I fuckin’ hope so.” Brock cocked a salacious smirk at Darius. “I mean, it must be hard to have a sister that looks like Salem. I feel your pain, man. But take it down a notch or two, sound good, sweetie pie?”

Darius edged back. Hatred boiled in his blood, and he glared at me with vicious eyes. “I warned you, Jud. Warned you to stay the fuck away from my sister.”

With a harsh shake of his head, he swung around, charged across the shop, and bashed through the side door. It swung all the way open, and the metal smashed against the exterior wall. It let in a bright glow of light that he disappeared through before the door clattered shut behind him.

I stood there.

Dumbstruck.

Cracking up, Brock clapped me on the shoulder.

“You did it now, boss. Looks like you got a little too friendly with someone’s sister.” He tsked. “Couldn’t keep your hands off all that deliciousness, could you? Not that I blame you. Salem is fine as hell.”

I grunted at him.

Backing away, he lifted his hands in surrender and grinned. “Don’t sweat it, man. Obviously, she’s worth it.”

Without saying anything else, he turned and went back to work.

I glanced at Salem who stood horrified in the doorway.

That feeling squeezed my chest.

Yeah.

She was fucking worth it.

Whatever the cost.

THIRTY

JUD

“Where are you going?” Kennedy frowned from their bedroom doorway as Jud tossed a change of clothes into his duffle bag.

“Consult on a custom bike.” The lie burned as it fell from his tongue.

A dagger.

A blade.

He felt as if he were slicing right through the vows he had made even though a whole ton of them had been silent. The ones Kennedy had no clue he’d needed to make.