Chapter Two
Steel
“T here’s a male outside of the club in a black hooded coat. Took a left on seventh. Follow him and report back.”
I pocket my phone, knowing that Reynolds will get the job done. Blaze raises a brow in a silent question, and I nod.
“How do you feel about Italian?” he asks our new little burden.
The woman blinks, clearly caught off guard. She glances between the two of us as if she’s still trying to figure out what we want from her.
“Italian?” she repeats softly. Almost as if she’s testing the word.
Blaze chuckles and gestures toward the direction of the restaurant. “A buddy of ours is a chef. Place isn’t far. You’ll love it.”
She hesitates, clutching the strap of her bag tighter. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans. You don’t have to…”
I cut her off with a flat tone. “We’re eating. So are you.”
Her lips part in a soft, surprised breath, and I catch that flicker of submission again. The way her shoulders dip ever so slightly, the way her gaze drops before she forces herself to look back up.
Blaze nudges her gently, all charm and warmth. “What my brother means is that we’d like your company. C’mon, we don’t bite.”
“Without a safe word,” I finish, enjoying the catch in her breath.
Blaze chuckles.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Oh, uhm, I’m Raven. Raven Marie Bassett.”
“You shouldn’t give strangers your full name,” I chide.
“But you asked,” she responds, eyes wide.
“Maybe so. But a first name would have been fine. A man could find a lot of information about a woman just using her full name. I could look up your address, sneak in and rape you.”
“Really, Steel?” Blaze glares when Raven stops walking. “Stop being an ass. The way he said it was stupid, but he’s not wrong, sweetheart. Your name in the wrong hands could be very dangerous.”
“What about you?” she asks, looking directly at me. Or rather, my chest. “Is my name dangerous in your hands?”
Raven squirms under my gaze, so I take my time responding.
“Very much so, pet,” I smile. “Very much so.”
“Again, not helping, brother,” Blaze sighs. “Raven, my brother is an extension of who I am, and I can promise you that he doesn’t mean that in the way it sounds. I’m Blaze, by the way. Blaze Montgomery. And this is my brother, Steel.”
“Isn’t it dangerous for me to know your full names as well?”
“Do you plan to harm us, Pet?” I ask, making my voice as steel as my name just to gauge her reaction.
“Oh, no,” she says, her face paling in the evening light. “I was just asking.”
“That’s good,” I say, placing my hand on her back and urging her forward. “Not that it would matter. Blaze and Steel aren’t our real names, anyway. I’m Jasper, and my brother over there is Jaxon.”
Blaze raises a brow over Raven’s head, and I shrug. I don’t know why the hell I told her our real names, and I’m not going to take the time to analyze it.
Raven doesn’t say much as we walk toward the restaurant, but her silence isn’t empty. It’s full of nerves. Shallow breaths, the occasional glance over her shoulder, the way she holds her bag like it’s her shield.
Blaze takes it easy on her, filling the air with his usual laid-back charm. “So, Raven, where are you from?”
“Here, mostly,” she says quietly.
“Mostly?” Blaze replies, his tone genuinely curious.
“We lived in West Virginia until I was ten,” she says, a little stronger this time. “My parents moved us here for dad’s work. When he died, Mom moved back, but I was already an adult and had my life set up here, so I stayed.”
I stay quiet, letting Blaze keep her talking. It’s his strength, putting people at ease and making them feel safe. Mine is figuring out who people really are, reading between their words, and catching the things they try to hide.
Raven’s words are careful and calculated. She’s definitely hiding something. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s issued the challenge.
Find out my secrets.
Challenge accepted, Pet. Challenge accepted.
The restaurant is quiet, and dimly lit, with warm golden tones and the scent of garlic and fresh basil. I don’t bother with the small talk Blaze exchanges with the hostess as we’re led to a booth near the back. I’m too busy watching Raven.
She slides into the booth slowly, her back straight as if she’s afraid to relax. Blaze sits beside her, keeping a friendly distance, while I take the seat across from her.
“Anything you recommend?” she asks softly, her voice polite but hesitant.
Blaze grins, grabbing a menu. “The fettuccine. Hands down.”
I don’t bother looking at mine. I’ve been here enough times to know what I want. “You’ll eat something filling,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.
She blinks at me, caught off guard. Her gaze darts to Blaze, looking for reassurance.
“Don’t mind him,” Blaze says with a chuckle. “He means well. Mostly.”
“I don’t think I need anything too filing,” she says, her face reddening.
I wonder if her ass would redden as nicely as her face. If she were ours, her comment alone would be enough to find out.
“I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a comment about your body,” Blaze says, his light tone gone as if it never existed. “For sanity’s sake, let’s pretend you never spoke those words. Now, would you like to try the fettuccine?”
I watch the way she fidgets with her hands, the way she keeps her eyes down. Submissive tendencies, all of them. She’s deferring to us without even realizing it.
When the waiter arrives, Blaze takes charge of ordering. Fettuccine for Raven, steak for me, and chicken Alfredo for himself. She doesn’t argue.
“Drink?” the waiter asks.
“Just water,” she says quickly.
I shake my head. “Red wine.”
She looks at me, startled. “I’m a lightweight, and I have to walk home. I really shouldn’t drink wine.”
“One glass,” I say, softening my voice. “We’ll make sure you get home safely. I just want you to relax.”
Her lips press together, but she nods. Another tell. She doesn’t like confrontation.
“So, Raven, what kind of work do you do?” Blaze asks, leaning back against the booth.
“Oh, I’m a bar manager at O’Neal’s.”
“A lightweight who manages a pub known for its drunken bar fights?” I ask, raising a brow.
“I serve the drinks. I don’t drink them,” she says sassily. “And, I’ll have you know that I happen to love my body. I was just trying to be funny.”
I chuckle low, a sound that surprises even me. The sass catches me off guard, and for a split second, I wonder if she’s testing us as much as we’re testing her. Good girl. Show some fire.
Blaze grins wide, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “And here I thought you’d be the quiet type.”
“I am,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing again. “Mostly.”
“Not always, though,” I counter, watching her squirm. “You’re not afraid to speak your mind when you want to.”
Her gaze darts to her lap, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “I guess so.”
Blaze laughs. “Don’t let him scare you, sweetheart. Steel’s bark is worse than his bite.”
Most of the time.
The waiter comes back with our drinks. Water for Blaze, red wine for Raven, and whiskey for me. She eyes the wine hesitantly but picks up the glass anyway, taking a small sip.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Blaze asks, flashing her a reassuring smile.
“No,” she says, setting the glass down. “It’s good.”
She’s lying. I can tell by the way she hesitates, the way her lips press together like she’s trying not to grimace. The wine’s too bold for her taste, but she doesn’t say anything.
She’s trying to please us.
Blaze and I exchange glances, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. She’s a natural.
“Switch with me, sweetheart,” Blaze laughs. “But thank you for giving it a try. You’ve pleased my brother very much.”
Raven looks up with a question in her eyes, and I smile.
“Indeed,” I nod. “You’re such a good girl, Raven.”
My smile widens as her blush deepens.