Chapter 40
Ramsey
I've got Reese's hand in mine, her fingers laced through my own like they belong there, as we walk toward BEDLAM. It’s been a few months since we’ve been here and it took that long for me to bring Reese back. Her begging every other week helped, I do enjoy watching her beg for me.
The music pulses from inside, vibrating through the concrete beneath our feet. I'm already thinking about getting her on the dance floor, pressing her ass against my cock while she grinds back on me, when I spot them.
"Fuck," I mutter, stopping short.
Reese bumps into me from behind. "What's wrong?"
I nod toward the three men standing near the entrance. Copeland is talking to Lucien Devereux and Elijah Moretti like they're old friends catching up at a fucking country club instead of standing outside the dirtiest underground club in the city.
"Who are they?" Reese asks, following my gaze, her voice tinged with curiosity.
I sigh, desperate not to tell her but knowing she'll fucking grab me by the balls until I do. She's like a dog with a bone when she wants information.
"Nothing good," I say, jaw clenching. "It's never anything good when those two appear."
She squeezes my hand, tugging me to a stop. "Come on, Rams. Spill."
"Fine." I nod toward them. "The one on the left is Lucien Devereux, the heir apparent of the Devereux Family. The other is Elijah Moretti, the eldest of the Moretti family's triplets." I keep my voice low, though we're still too far away for them to hear us.
Her eyebrows shoot up. "You know them?"
"Unfortunately." I start walking again, pulling her alongside me. "I know of them, at least. Our paths have crossed."
"So what's their deal?" she asks, still staring at them like they're some kind of fucking museum exhibit.
I clench my jaw, hating how her attention is fixed on them.
"Lucien is captain of the basketball team at St. Augustine University.
Elijah is on the hockey team in apparently all his free time.
He looks identical to his brothers except he's the only one who can spend more than five minutes in a Devereux presence. "
"Oh, is there bad blood?" she asks, perceptive as always.
"Yeah, something like that." I tug her closer to my side, my arm snaking around her waist possessively. "They're part of some ancient club at St. Augustine."
Her eyes light up. "Oh! Like a secret society?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes, Reese, a secret society. With rituals and blood oaths and all that dramatic shit."
"Ooooh, like The Skulls?" Reese's eyes widen with interest, and something in her expression makes my blood pressure spike. "That's kinda kinky. I could be into that."
I whip my head around, staring at her like she's just suggested we jump off a fucking bridge. "No the fuck you won't be."
"What? I'm just saying—"
"You're not saying shit about being 'into that,'" I growl, tightening my grip on her waist. "Those fuckers are different, Reese. Not the sexy kind of different. They operate on a separate plane of existence."
She rolls her eyes, but before she can argue, I feel the weight of someone's stare. When I look up, Lucien's dead eyes are locked on me, his expression giving away nothing. Fuck. He's seen us.
I sigh as he starts moving in our direction, cutting through the line of people waiting to get in like they're not even there. Elijah follows a step behind, his movements more fluid but no less purposeful.
Copeland catches my eye over their shoulders, mouthing "my bad" with an apologetic grimace. That motherfucker. I'm gonna kick his ass six ways to Sunday for this little introduction. He knows damn well I've been keeping Reese away from shit.
"Hello Blackwood," Lucien says when he reaches us, his voice smooth as glass and just as cold.
"Devereux," I respond, keeping my tone neutral even though every muscle in my body is tensed for a fight.
His lips twitch in what might be amusement. "And who's this?" His eyes slide to Reese, assessing her with clinical detachment.
"None of your fucking business," I reply before Reese can open her mouth.
Elijah just smirks at me, and I swear to fuck if I ever meet him on the ice I’m busting up his medium ugly face until it’s black and blue.
"Reese St. Pierre," she says, and I swear to god my heart stops. She just gave them her full fucking name.
Lucien's eyes narrow slightly, recognition flickering across his face. "St. Pierre? Any relation to Reagan St. Pierre?"
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
"She's my sister," Reese says, looking surprised. "Do you know her?"
"We've crossed paths," Lucien says, his gaze shifting to me. There's a question there, one I don't want to answer.
Great. So not only am I gonna have to kill Copeland, but now I'll need to murder my cousin and his wife too, leaving their kids as orphans. Because why the fuck is everyone in my life tangled up with Black Crown?
"We should catch up sometime, Blackwood," Lucien continues. "It's been too long since our last…interaction."
"Yeah, pass." I start to pull Reese away. "Been real, but bye."
Lucien's hand shoots out, gripping my forearm with surprising strength. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me," he says, his voice dropping to a register that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "Especially when I know exactly what happened to that ballerina."
My blood turns to fucking ice. I stop dead, my fingers digging into Reese's waist hard enough to bruise. Her sharp intake of breath tells me she heard him too.
"What did you just say?" I ask, my voice deadly quiet.
"Your little girlfriend's handiwork was quite...impressive." His eyes slide to Reese, who's gone completely still beside me. "But Weston Holliday isn't as careful as he thinks. We have eyes everywhere, Blackwood. Even in junkyards."
Fuck. How the fuck does he know about that? West swore the place was clean.
"What do you want?" I ask, cutting through the bullshit.
Lucien releases my arm, straightening his already perfect cuffs. "A conversation. Nothing more."
"About?"
"Your family. Your talents. The way you've been wasting them when you could be doing so much more."
I laugh, a harsh sound with no humor in it. "Right. Because joining your little cult is such a step up."
His eyes darken. "Black Crown isn't a cult, Blackwood. It's the future. And whether you like it or not, your family is already part of it."
"My family," I repeat, the words bitter on my tongue.
"Penn's been quite useful," Lucien says, watching my reaction carefully. "Though he doesn't know exactly who he's working for."
Jesus fucking Christ. Penn, you stupid motherfucker. What have you done?
"We'll be in touch," Lucien says, stepping back. "Enjoy your evening."
He turns and walks away, Elijah following after shooting us a wink that makes me want to rip his face off.
"What the fuck have you gotten tangled up in?" I hiss once we're out of earshot.
Cope has the decency to wince, grabbing the back of his neck and squeezing. "There's shit about my family you don't know," he admits, looking anywhere but at me. "Lucien and I are loosely related."
"Just fucking great," I growl, running my free hand through my hair. "You, my cousin, my father. Is everyone playing super secret illuminati but me?"
Reese interrupts with a choking laugh. The sound so unexpected it makes my head snap toward her.
"It's not funny," I snap.
"Baby, it really kinda is," she says, her eyes dancing with amusement. "You're standing here looking like someone pissed in your cereal while all the other boys are playing with their secret decoder rings."
Copeland lets out a laugh, his whole face lighting up.
"I knew I liked your little dancer," he says, nodding at Reese.
"She's fucking perfect for you. Although I don't really wanna know what you two are about to do in there.
" He jerks his thumb toward BEDLAM's entrance. "I got my own business to tend to."
He starts walking away, already pulling out his phone, probably to text Delaney about whatever fucked up shit they're into these days.
"Tell Delaney I say hi!" Reese calls after him. "And to text me about our next girls’ night!"
Cope throws up a middle finger without even turning around, and Reese just laughs.
I grab her by the back of the neck, my fingers tangling in her hair as I tug her to me. Her body collides with mine, soft curves against hard muscle, and I can feel her pulse jumping under my palm.
"Your mouth is getting pretty fucking smart," I growl against her ear, "so I might need to stuff it."
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her lips curving into that wicked smile that makes my dick twitch. "Oooo, kinky," she purrs. "Like with my panties?"
Before I can respond, she dances away from me, hips swaying as she backs toward the entrance. The bouncer nods at her, already unclipping the velvet rope. I follow, my body on autopilot, drawn to her like she's got me on a fucking leash.
Because she does and I’ll gladly wear a collar and leash and let her lead me around.
She’s my everything, my moon and my stars.
My compass. I care about two things in this fucked up world, her and my family.
Just so happens they both end and begin with her, and I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
If she smiled at me and asked me if she could burn the world down, I’d hand her the gasoline and matches and say light it up, baby girl.