Her body relaxes with that, but not by much.
“I can’t believe you killed him.” She whispers, still in shock. It’s not so surprising. In my world, killing another man that put his hands on his lady is a way of telling his woman he loves her.
I just told Jillian I loved her, even if she didn’t realize it.
That thought makes my mouth go dry. The word love… I know I feel it for her, but when you say it out loud it changes shit. “Why did you go there, baby?” I ask, my thumb circling her cheek. When she was at that party a while back, she was out of place; I had my eye on her the whole time. I never would have expected her to show up willingly to my club.
She tries to look away but I tighten my grip on her, not letting her escape.
“I need to know why you would do something so stupid.”
“I didn’t mean to push you.” Her sad brown eyes stare into mine. “I didn’t know I’d…” She trails off.
“This is me. This is my life, Jillian. Someone touches what’s mine, they pay with a bullet. Me not telling you about the club or myself, that’s me, not you. I was raised to keep that shit on lockdown, so it’s going to take some time for me to adjust to that.”
Her hands rise, resting on my leather cut.
“I get that. It’s just going to take me some time to adjust, as well.”
Fingering her hair, I rub my fingers into her scalp.
“Why were you beating that man in the club? You didn’t even look like the same man, Zeek.”
Biting my bottom lip, I push through the urge to avoid her question. “Because my uncle is trying to take over my club. I needed to make a point.” I say the words in a rush, like if I didn’t hurry up and spit them out I may not ever say them.
She nods, not really knowing what the hell I’m talking about. Taking my hands from her face, I wrap them around her and pull her in to me. Scared if I let go she might come to the realization of the fucked-up man I really am. The look on her face when she was in my club, I never want to see it again. She wasn’t scared, she was terrified.
“Don’t be scared of me. I’d never hurt you,” I whisper, resting my chin on top of her head.
She takes a moment to respond, and with every second that goes by, I think about how I will refuse to let her walk away from me.
“You’re insane, and I am scared of you sometimes, but I don’t fear you. Does that make me crazy?”
“Yes.” If she was smart, she’d run far, far away. If she knew how much I needed and wanted her, she’d be very afraid.
I may not hurt her intentionally, but I have no doubt I will hurt her. Look at me, look at her. She deserves a man who has a job with insurance, can take her on vacations, and touch her with a softness I can’t.
But I won’t let her know that. I won’t let her know a man out there is more capable of taking care of her than I am, ‘cause I’ll drop the motherfucker six feet under before that ever happens.
“I want to figure out why you are the way you are, so I can not only understand you more, but understand what it is that draws me to you.” Her arms come up and rub my back. “Ever since the day I met you, I knew there was more to you than everyone let on.”
I may not be able to give her what she deserves, but I can try to give her what she wants—answers.
“One. You get one question,” I mumble into her hair.
She pulls back, her lashes sticking together with wetness.
“Three.”
I tilt my head to the side, puzzled. She’s trying to hustle me. That’s why I want her, why I can’t walk away. Any other bitch wouldn’t have even thrown me out when I wouldn’t give in to their wishes. They’d just accept that I can’t give them anything and bend over the couch for a fucking.
“Two,” I compromise.
She bites her bottom lip, her swollen eyes looking off into the distance. She’s thinking of what to ask. Fuck. I’m in trouble.
FOURTEEN
JILLIAN
I get two questions.
Two.
I want to know why he’s so haunted and scared to have normalcy in his life. I want to know who broke him, and that answer seems to revolve around his family and the club.
“Why is the subject of your family touchy?”
Taking a deep breath, his shoulders rise. “I hurt my family.” His piercing brown irises find mine, flashing with a darkness of hurt. “I killed my father.”
“What?” My stomach falls, and so does my mouth.
He sits on the couch, wringing his hands.
“When my father got taken down, it was like a domino effect. A lot of our men went down, half of them ratting the club out to make deals on their sentence. My uncle told me my father was in the throes of making a deal, taking not only the club down but me, as well. It made sense—hell, everyone was thinking it. He ordered me to take my father out, prove I wasn’t a rat, show my loyalty.”
He looks up at me, his eyes glossy. “So, I killed him.”
I swallow, a little shocked he just told me that. I want to push and ask about his brother, but after this I can’t.
“Say something.”