Chapter 5 Brielle #3
I turn to stare at him as if he is a complete nutter. Gaping at him with an angered, raised eyebrow, I sneer; “What’s wrong!? Are you kidding me? Young boys fighting for you. Getting hurt before they can even experience a fraction of their future. Then you brand them for life!?”
He looks down at me with a knowing and compassionate look, then takes in a contemplating breath. “I don’t know how to explain this to ya, baby.”
I snatch my packed medical bag from the floor. “Then who can!?”
Bobby scratches the back of his head. “I don’t know if you wanna find out, love,” he plainly warns.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Bobby, does it look like I give a shit? Take me to who will answer my question.”
He gives a halfhearted smile. “Nope, it doesn’t.” He throws one leg over the motorbike and sighs. “Let’s get on the bike, ma’am, go get yer questions answered by the owner themselves, but prepare yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
Bobby drives like hell and takes us to the vast, Gothic-looking gambling hall.
The gambling hall downtown is not only a place where individuals can bet on various events, especially the horse races: it also houses the offices of the Afton Adders .
I haven’t been here but once, and it was only so Bobby could run in and retrieve whatever he needed at that moment.
He slows the motorbike as we approach the front of the steep, haunting building.
Gargoyles hang on the edges of the structure, with large marble pillars.
Bobby was telling me the history of its development during the ride.
The building used to be a government building, but the officials were run out by the townspeople from their neglect after the war and lack of support for the soldiers who came home.
As I sling one leg off the motorbike, a hand pulls on my bag, still slung over my arm.
Bobby tries to stop me, but I pull my bag free of his grasp and begin storming into the building.
“Baby, Bri, stop! Stop, stop, stop! You don’t know where you’re going or who you’re talking to!
” He rushes behind me, leaving the motorcycle.
“What you gonna do, go in there as a woman and say, ‘Who’s in charge, I gotta bone to pick with ya?’” He is carefully holding my arm, cautiously looking at me and awaiting an answer.
“If that is what I must do.” Malice is seeping through my words .
I rush inside after yanking my arm from his hold.
Marching into the building, I hear the hollering and cheers across the first floor. There are various areas with a multitude of card tables, leaderboards and other gambling materials to waste money on.
Swiftly moving up the grand staircase, I see the top floor divides into three passageways. The ones on the far side appear to lead to more gaming areas, so I take the hallway forward and find another staircase made of marble, yet smaller than the entranceway’s. It leads to a pristine office area.
So I calm my nerves as best as I can and begin my ascent.
As I focus on the sound of my footsteps, I hold on to the anger that is driving my courage to speak up for what is right.
A young man sits outside a line of glassed offices with either closed or open curtains, the latter revealing mahogany bookshelves, oak desks and a plethora of expensive office items. Some glass offices have large conference tables with esteemed paintings.
The man ceases his work and peers up towards me. “Who goes there?” he asks .
“I want to speak with the owner, please,” I boldly state.
Bobby catches up to me and pleads softly, “Brielle, I don’t think this is a good idea. My brain’s working properly now and I don’t want you to get killed. There is still time to turn back, and maybe I can answer your questions.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “You gonna let them kill me, Bobby?”
He whistles. “Brielle, you are something else. I haven’t seen you riled up like this before, but my brother isn’t referred to as the Dragon or Ice Adder for nothing.
I’ll try to protect you but can’t make no guarantees.
” He nods at the young man in the matching tweed suit.
Who still appears confused by my intrusion.
Narrowing my eyes at Bobby, I turn and storm toward the office double doors.
It dawns on me I’m still in my hospital scrubs, with blood still painted on my skirt and top from Clint. My hair is probably disheveled, but either way there is nothing I can do about it. I barge into the room looking like a pissed-off warrior.
Maybe it will get me killed, but at least I’ll have stuck up for what I think is right.
A large reception desk sits adjacent from the double-doored conference room. A young blonde stands up from the desk, but I stomp past her. Bobby gives her a small nod and a wink.
“You can’t go in there; they have a meeting!” she scolds.
As I make a booming entrance into the conference room, I look around to find five men—in tweed, of course: three-piece suits of various colors. They’re around a large oval desk with numerous chairs aligned with it.
Beautiful paintings of horses and snakes adorn the room, which is full of bookshelves.
As I glare at each and every man sitting down, a pair of familiar eyes land on me.
“I tried to stop her—”
I cut off Bobby as I shout, “Who the fuck is in charge?”
The men have been rendered speechless. Some look amused. Some furrow their brows in disdain, anger or displeasure.
Then a set of familiar amber eyes gazes back at me.
He sits at the head of the table.
He places his chin within his palm. His facial features are unreadable, no emotion detected. Recognition stinging the back of my mind, trying to place him.
Finally dawns on me, the familiarity.
The white-blond hair, sides cut short, but longer slicked-back locks atop his head.
Angular face—stark, marble-white skin.
“May I help you?” His deep, icy voice racks my nerves. It’s the same guy from the pub. I would remember those hunter’s eyes anywhere. My gaze is stuck on him.
I feel off-kilter, stuck in the memory of our first encounter and wondering how I didn’t pick up on his dangerous essence the moment I barged in.
“I don’t have all day. How may I help you, Miss Brielle?” he asks again. My heart feels lodged in my throat, so I swallow hard and take a short, deep breath, getting a grasp on the courage that aided me up those stairs to this office.
“I’ve just bandaged up another boy, a boy I’ve patched up for you.
You lead them out to do your dirty work, and these boys have no idea what they are getting themselves into.
” My breathing picks up as my heart starts to pound.
I clench my fists at my side, but maintain control so this doesn’t look like an emotional outburst. “And that mark. You burn your mark into these young boys like they are cattle!? That is disgusting…degrading!” I’m almost shouting at him, the burn mark on my shoulder itching beneath my scrubs. Tugging at past traumas.
No emotion. He has no emotion or feeling. I never would have thought the man I met that night in the Den, would be the man sitting before me. The leader of some thugs.
After what feels like several minutes, the room becomes much colder despite it only being fall.
Everett stands, looking me up and down. Embarrassment creeps across my face, for he’s probably judging my disheveled state the way their mother did.
He finally speaks. “You seem tense, nurse. Why don’t you get a massage?”
“What?” I mutter softly. A massage? Is he fucking kidding me? I shout these remarks and he offers a massage? Is he mad ?
His large hand, waves everyone out of the room. A few men glare angrily at me as they leave. One brushes past me and knocks into my shoulder, nearly making me lose my balance.
“For fuck sake, don’t be a dick,” Bobby yells at the man.
My confidence deflates and I look to the ground.
“Oi,” Bobby whispers, “this ain’t bad. You ain’t gonna die.”
“You’ll be getting a massage tomorrow and another one after, to relieve some of the tension from your work-life imbalance.
As for the boys, they have the souls of warriors and many of them have a story, a reason, a why behind how they became one of us.
Back stories no one would wish on anybody.
That burn is to show others they are protected by us and to show they are a part of our family.
We are loyal to them and they are loyal to us,” he calmly explains, still no emotion on his face.
Bobby leans into my ear. “Let’s go now.”
We turn to leave, then Everett’s icy voice licks down my spine. “Brielle. Thank you for patching up my men. They have only positive reviews.”