Kade scrutinized me with one of his blank expressions that Lacey hated. He was either picking his words or deciding where to begin his dissertation. “George tells me you punched Dillon Hart. Why?”
“Just come out and ask me what’s really on your mind.” Kade was immune to fights. They happened in the club at least on a weekly basis, according to him. Besides, the bouncers took care of removing anyone causing any disruption. No, Kade had something else on the tip of his tongue. I gulped down the rest of the Coke.
“George said it was about a girl named Elizabeth Reardon. You want to tell me more?”
I burped loudly then tossed the can into the metal trashcan adjacent to Kade. It clanged for two points. I sauntered to the door. “There’s not much to say.” I wasn’t ready to discuss the girl from my past. I wasn’t even ready to believe she was here in Boston.
Kade pinned me up against the door with his hand on my chest. “Is it Lizzie?” His face reddened.
“Chill, bro. It’s not.” I never lied to Kade—or any of my brothers. We were all tight. We told each other everything. At that moment, I couldn’t tell him the truth. I was having a hard time believing the dark-haired beauty was Lizzie Reardon. The Lizzie I knew was tough but sweet. The girl tonight was different—cocky, badass, and she seemed to have a chip on her shoulder.
“Seriously, Kel. Tell me the truth. I know how fucked up you got when she left Texas. And you know you can’t get involved with her. Any mention of the Reardons in our house—”
I pushed him. “It’s not her. Okay?”
Kade stumbled, running both hands through his hair. “I swear, Kel.” He sneered.
“I’m twenty years old, not thirteen. Give me a fucking break.” I stormed out. As soon as I did, a wrecking ball hit the pit of my stomach. I hated to lie to my brother, but before I could come clean, I had to talk to Lizzie. First, I had to find out where she was staying.
7
Lizzie
After thirty minutes of stoplights and side streets, we drove up to a three-tenement house in a suburb of Boston. The bald guy who had followed me to the restroom sat shotgun while his buzz-cut crony drove. I sat in the back seat with Dillon. The tension between us was as thick as the ocean fog on a dark night. Dillon and I had argued when we’d gotten into the SUV. I’d wanted him to take me back to the hostel. When I said hostel he’d done a double take. Then he’d instructed the driver, who I learned was Rafe, to proceed back to the compound. Yep, compound. Whatever that meant.
I almost jumped out of the SUV at one of the stoplights, but I needed Dillon for more than a weapon. He’d proved to me that he had my back. He’d had Baldy watch over me, though I still wasn’t sure why. Dillon had distracted me from a person I’d called a creeper. He also had a soft side that told me he could be a good friend. He certainly was a good kisser. Most of all, my curiosity was piqued about who exactly Dillon was and what he did other than sell guns.
Rafe pulled into a skinny driveway between two houses. Once he cut the engine, he and Baldy jumped out as if they had to put out a fire.
“So, are we having a sleepover?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Do you want to sleep with me?” Dillon asked, searching me with his gaze much as Kelton had.
I let out a nervous laugh. Maybe if my heart wasn’t for someone else. Although the last time I had been intimate with anyone was over a year ago with some guy I’d hung out with at a party. I remembered two things from that rendezvous. One, we’d agreed no names, and two, the sex had been surprisingly slow and sensual. The hunky guy wanted to take care of my needs first, which I thought was sweet considering we didn’t know each other. Usually, one-night stands were fast and furious.
“Why am I here? I have a place to stay.” I glanced out at the two-car garage. “And you probably don’t want to do business with me anyway.”
Leaning on the armrest that separated us, he rested his chin on the backs of his fingers. “A hostel. Are you broke?”
Yep. “None of your business. And there’s nothing wrong with hostels.” The place was a hotel, just on the cheap side.
“Tell me about Kelton Maxwell.” His gaze dropped to my lips.
“You seem to know a lot about him. And me. Care to share?”
He laughed. “I do my homework on people I’m about to do business with. And don’t forget—”
“Yeah, Russian mob and all that. I get it. How did you get intel on me?”
“Tell me how you know Kelton.”