TWENTY FOUR
P oison and Gavin sat in a corner booth of the first open diner she could find at eleven at night. They had barely spoken a word to each other since they sat down, yet it seemed as if Gavin enjoyed just staring at her.
“Gavin?” she asked, staring into her coffee as she stirred it slowly.
“Yes?”
She could hear his smile in his voice. It seemed to be his only expression, and it was contagious.
“Thanks for saving me tonight,” she mumbled. She didn’t allow herself to think what would have happened if he hadn’t. Forcing herself to look at him, she returned his smile.
“Don’t mention it,” he waved it off.
“So I know I asked this already,” she started, staring into her coffee again. “But you didn’t really give me an answer. Why were you walking around with a bat? Or did you just have it handy in your Jeep?”
Her untrusting nature was relentless. She didn’t believe in coincidences and had the feeling Gavin, despite having such an honest face, hadn’t been entirely truthful.
She watched in astonishment as he blushed, the blood coloring his cheeks.
“Friends and I played ball in The Big Park,” he explained. “We went for drinks afterward, and I planned to take a shortcut through the park. Thank goodness I did. I was still at the entrance when I heard you.”
But as quickly as the blush had stained his face, it was replaced by a frown between his crystal blue eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?”
She couldn’t bear those eyes staring into the dark pits of her soul, so she looked away again.
“He didn’t hurt me,” She shook her head. “I’m fine. Really. He didn’t even touch me. It’s just…” she trailed off, trying to gather her thoughts.
“It’s just?” he prompted, and she turned to look at him—at his genuine concern.
“I’m worried about him, that’s all,” she finished.
Gavin’s eyes grew impossibly wide as he sat back, staring at her in disbelief. She fought the urge to smile. Yeah, he was definitely not a fighter. His animated emotions wouldn’t allow him to survive for long in the underworld.
“Why?” he exclaimed. “He will be fine once he wakes up. Serves him right for raising his hands to a lady.”
“A lady?” she scoffed. “I’m definitely not a lady. I have an attitude, opinions, a very loud mouth, and one hell of a right hook.”
His laughter rang through the empty diner, the waitress glaring at him. “I like the sound of that,” he mused.
She shook her head, smiling. “You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” she teased.
She studied him for a minute. He was boyishly handsome, with a charm that could outshine any gentleman in the Regency era. Fuck, he made her feel like a lady and she hated how little she hated it.
“Okay, jokes aside,” he said, trying to suppress his smile, and she found his innocence very alluring. “Why are you worried about the guy who attacked you? What is he to you?”
She didn’t know how to answer the second part of that question. She had no idea what Scorpion was to her, but she wanted the chance to find out.
“He will come for me again,” she confessed, her emotions threatening to surface again. “He won’t stop unless I make him stop.”
It surprised her how easy it was to talk to him—how effortless it was.
He leaned forward and placed his hand on hers, but when she turned to look at the connection, he pulled away.
“You want me to come home with you? Me and my bat could protect you?” he asked, with a wink, causing her to smile like a schoolgirl.
“Mean right hook, remember?” she said, raising her fist for emphasis. “I’ll be alright, but thank you.”
He smiled at her and got out of the booth, walking to the counter. She couldn’t hear what he said to the waitress, but she handed him a pen. Taking a napkin, he scribbled something and walked back to her. He took her hand again and turned it palm up before crumbling the napkin into her hand. Folding her fingers over the paper, he held her hand in both of his.
“I have to go,” he said, disappointed at the departure. “But here’s my number. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.” And he gave her hand a slight squeeze.
She just stared up at him as he stood next to her. When he hesitated, she gave a faint nod. Releasing her hand, he stepped back and gave her a last warm smile before walking out the door.
Gavin’s absence left her feeling cold as she sat in the booth and tried to make sense of everything that had happened to her.
She sat lost in thought, sipping her coffee, until the bell above the door chimed, pulling her from her stupor. Three drunk men came stumbling into the diner and immediately noticed her sitting alone in the corner.
“Well, hey there, pretty little lady.” The one in front stumbled over his words and feet as he made his way to her.
Smelling the alcohol all the way to her booth, Poison knew they were trouble. She got up and placed money on the table. Turning, she found all three men approaching her. The one in front wiped his mouth with his already stained vest, his plaid shirt flapping at his sides. His buddies wore trucker hats; the one turned backward, and all three mud-covered, faded denim.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to squeeze past them, but they blocked her way, one grabbing her arm.
Instinct kicked in, and she grabbed his hand, turning it at a painful angle—any further and she could snap it. Pushing him toward his friends, she walked away.
She barely left the diner when the bell rang behind her again.
“Hey, honey. You’re going to pay for that!” one of the men thundered.
She knew she should get on her bike and drive away, but the idea of teaching these drunk bastards a lesson was far too inviting. So she turned into the alley next to the diner, luring them into the dark. She walked all the way to the fenced end at the back of the alley before turning to her predators.
“Nowhere to run now, pretty little thing.”
She waited, biding her time until they reached her, before making a move. They formed a crescent before her, blocking her only way out.
“We’re going to have some fun with you,” the one to her right mumbled, popping his knuckles.
“Oh, sweetie,” she sneered. “The pleasure is going to be all mine,” she answered with a low bow, pretending to hold a dress between her thumb and index finger.
“Bitch, you think you can take on all three of us?” the middle one asked.
“Not to brag,” she drawled, a sinister smile on her lips. “but at least six men have described me as terrifying.”
“Go to hell, whore.”
“Oh, I’m on my way there,” she answered, pretending to check her nails. “They’ve reserved a special seat for me—it’s called the throne. So, enough small talk. Come and get me, boys.”
She held her arms open, and they did exactly as she had predicted. They stormed her, and with a low swipe of her leg, she knocked the first one’s feet from under him—his back hitting the ground with a hollow thud.
The second one stammered back after her fist collided with his jaw, and as she turned to the third one, her blood ran cold. Arms wrapped around his head, twisting it and snapping his neck with a blood-curdling pop.
“Oh, fuck off, Gavin!” she yelled. “Twice in one night? I do not need saving! I am not a damsel in distress,” she fumed as the other two men ran away, falling over their feet as their screams reverberated through the alley.
But Gavin didn’t answer or move. He stood in the shadow of the building, looking down at the body at his feet.
“I thought you had to leave?” she asked, stepping closer to him and froze.
It wasn’t Gavin.
Reaper looked up at her, a sick smile on his lips.
“Oh, is that what his name was?” he scoffed. “I believe Gavin is unavailable at the moment.”
“What did you do?” she demanded, but fury and instinct consumed her whole.
She lunged at Reaper, catching him off guard. She landed an uppercut under his chin, the force of his head snapping back, causing him to stammer backward, but she didn’t stop. The heel of her boot rammed into his chest, forcing him back.
Summoning every ounce of anger and hatred from the past decade, Poison unleashed her fury onto Reaper. She made the mistake of letting him go the other night. She wasn’t going to allow it a second time. Not when he so willingly crossed her path.
Allowing the momentum of her kick to spin her around, she drove her elbow into his jaw, and he fell to the ground with a crash. Her foot found his ribcage, and she could feel the bone crunching beneath it.
“Minke,” he pleaded, but she brushed it aside as she landed another kick to his ribs.
“You do not get to call me that.” Another kick. “This is for Jonathan!” Another kick. “For stabbing him in the back.” Another kick.
Tears welled in her eyes, and all she could see, could feel, could hear was red as she choked on anger. She lost all sense of time as her foot kept colliding with his body.
Her phone rang, and she tried to ignore it. She was so close to finally getting her revenge that she wouldn’t let anything get in her way.
But it was her emergency ringtone, which could only mean one thing—someone in her crew needed help.
“Stay there,” she hissed through a clenched jaw, giving another kick to show how serious she was.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, the light blinding in the darkness as she opened a text from Skel.
SOS
Just SOS and a location. Fuck, she couldn’t abandon Skel, but she had her revenge within reach. For a moment, Poison stood torn between vengeance and duty.
“This is your fucking lucky night,” she spat to a whimpering Reaper as she left with a final kick to his spleen.
Getting onto her bike, she hoped to hell for Skel’s sake that it was a real emergency. Placing her phone into the holder on her handlebars, she activated the navigation system and followed the arrow to Skel’s location.