Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

“It’s not worth it,” she says. Her eyes follow my beer as I lift it up and finish it off. When I set the empty bottle on the concrete, she keeps her eyes glued to it for a moment before rolling her shoulders and looking everywhere but at me. “That kind of money would help, sure; but it’s not worth what I’d have to give up.”


“You’re not answering any of my questions, and I’m losing patience,” I grit out. My muscles are tensing. There isn’t enough beer in the fridge to keep shit calm if she keeps this up. I haven’t had to listen to anyone give me the runaround in conversation since the last time Chey missed her curfew. It was all one big web of excuses and no actual answers. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can ground Holly for not being straight with me—not that it works so well when I try to ground Chey. I would, however, like to spank her again.

“Hey,” she snaps. She leans forward and slaps at the ground with her free hand. She’s close, so close I don’t know if she intends to or not, but she’s in my space. If I thought her presence was insufferable before, I was wrong. I breathe in her scent, and it’s so strong this close. Undiluted. Her lips part, and her tongue sneaks out to lick her bottom lip. I glance down for half a second to watch, but it’s too late. Her mouth forms a hard line, and I return my gaze to her eyes.

“I said I’d keep my mouth shut and I have. That short guy you got following me everywhere can tell you that I’ve kept my word. I don’t want your money, but it’s not because I’m going to rat on you. That’s all you need to know.” Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s breathing heavy. It’s sort of hot the way her chest heaves and her cheeks flush. I wonder what she would do if I just leaned over and told her I was going to fuck her until she couldn’t argue with me anymore. But I don’t. Women like Holly have expectations, and they’re a complication that I refuse to bring into my life. I did it once, and I won’t be doing it again.

She’s mouthing off—it should be pissing me off.

But it’s not.

Because, like with every other time I’m around her, I’m off my game. The only thing that’s pissing me off right now is that she caught Squat following her. Stupid fuck isn’t going to earn his top rocker at this rate.

“Why don’t you drink?” I whisper. My eyes quickly glance down at her lips again. I’ll bet she tastes as sweet as she looks.

“Why won’t you let me go home?” she whispers back. The anger in her voice fades and is replaced with a soft murmur.

“Why don’t you drink?” I repeat.

“I have enough trouble with making poor choices without alcohol, okay? Now, why won’t you let me go home?

“Because we’re building a bike,” I say.

“Bullshit,” she says. There’s a defiant little bite to her tone that brings a smile to my face. She scowls at me, but it’s more confused than angry. “You want me to be honest, but you don’t want to be honest with me.”

“That dickhead at the school today? He’ll kill you.” I’ve never had a problem with keeping my mouth shut before, but I told myself I’d be real with her. Real is an uncomfortable territory for me. It’s my job to protect my brothers and safeguard our secrets. Part of that is keeping club business within the club, but the other part is information management. I haven’t done such a great job at managing Holly so far, and if I don’t get it under control soon, someone is going to start demanding that I take more drastic of measures to seal this shit off.

“But,” she protests and retreats. Her eyes are wide, and she looks scared. I need her scared. Fear is the great motivator. Before she can get very far, I lean forward and grab the back of her neck and pull her close to me. Her nose is but an inch or two away from mine. Her body tenses up from the close proximity. She could consume me at this distance. Everything about this woman could suck me in and spit me out, leaving me confused as fuck for God only knows how long.

“That’s his job, you know,” I hiss. “He’s from New York, and he’s been sent here to kill his boss’s daughter. Make no mistake that you mean nothing to him. He will slaughter you and sleep like a baby afterwards. You are inconsequential to him.”

“Don’t,” she whispers. A single tear rolls down her cheek, and her lips tremble. “Don’t tell me this.”

I ignore her plea and continue, tightening up my grip on her neck so she knows I’m serious.

“I don’t have men to put on you anymore. You’re not a priority to the club. He kills you and that ties up our loose ends—that means if you leave this house, you’re unprotected, so you might as well go home and decide which outfit you want your mother to bury you in, that is, assuming anyone finds your body.”





Chapter 15