9. Adrian
“What do you mean you can’t tell me about the dragon tile?” Adrian scowled into the phone. Bitter smoke tumbled from his lips as he kicked chunks of ice around the back of his apartment complex.
Maybe he should’ve followed his first instinct and barged straight into Beta Rho, demanding answers. Even if Jace hadn’t become an official Red Dragon, he’d be the one to snitch. Cowards parading as tough guys always caved first. Besides, he had no issues roughing him up again.
“I mean,” Raptor replied on the other line. “You chose not to be initiated. I can’t discuss club business with anyone outside of Royal Flush, especially about the Dragons. You know that.”
“Bullshit,” Adrian spat, almost snapping the cigarette when his hand clenched into a fist. “You told me the shooting wasn’t a club matter, and if it had been, President Cortez would’ve retaliated—Luke was his son , for crying out loud. This has to be something else. It means something, and I need to know.”
Whatever triggered the events that led to the death of his father and childhood friend, he had to find out. Maybe it’d been something small, like a side deal gone wrong, or it could’ve been something worse, like a spilled secret. Whatever it was, however that tile had gotten next to that girl’s body, it hadn’t been a fluke.
Raptor hesitated. “Like I said—”
“I’m aware of the rules.” Adrian cut him off with a scoff, followed by another drag on the burning roll of tobacco. He’d known Raptor since middle school, when he started working under his father at the club’s mechanic shop. But ever since Raptor took the VP cut, they’d seen each other less and less. “You’re telling me I finally found a piece of the puzzle—finally have a chance to avenge my family and get us some goddamn peace—and I need to become a criminal to get your help? That I need to sell what’s left of my soul in order to heal the thing that broke it in the first place?”
Adrian exhaled, his vision blurring between the grey smoke and dirty piles of parking lot snow. Several streetlamps clicked on and chased off gathering darkness. “My sister may be able to deal with the club’s activities, but I have to think further down the line, R. I have to make sure mom’s taken care of. I need to be there to bail your ass out when things go wrong, and all I need is one damn answer.”
“Stop. Look man, I shouldn’t be so cold with you, it’s just—” Raptor sighed. “I still stand by my advice to not join, and this discovery is fucking crazy, but hold on. Give me time to talk with Pres.”
“Cortez will say the same damn thing you did. He’s never given up on me joining, and that’s why I cut ties in the first place.” Ever since the President's son died, Cortez had treated Adrian like family—or so everyone else said—but the look in that man’s eyes spoke less of fatherly concern and more like a patriarch who needed an heir. He wanted nothing to do with the fate attached to that title.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll poke around on my own, okay?” Raptor grunted. “For now, you have to lay low. Seriously—don’t start anything. Even members need to verify shit like this before any moves are made.”
“Fuck,” Adrian cursed and leaned back against the rough brick wall, the coldness of it seeping past his jacket and into his bones, cutting through the restlessness boiling in his veins. “Fine. I’ll give you a few days, but after that, I’m following up on my own.”
Raptor grunted. “You know Riley’s going to make a fuss if she hears you called and didn’t make plans to visit.”
“I’ll stop by soon,” Adrian said, pushing back his hair. “I got a thing right now, so I gotta go.”
“All right, I’ll tell her, but you know what will happen if you don’t show.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Adrian shook his head. What would happen was his sister biting both their heads off, but he didn’t want to drag her into this shit. Her affiliation with Royal Flush put her in harm's way enough already.
“Stay straight, little man,” Raptor joked, tone light but sentiment serious.
Adrian snorted. “Just because you’re legally my brother now doesn’t mean you can son me. In case you hadn’t noticed, a few months ago, I turned twenty-one.”
“Aw, look at that,” Raptor teased. “Little man’s finally old enough to drink without getting locked up.”
“Like jail has ever been a concern of yours,” he shot back.
“Hey, still ain’t a place I want to be. Might be a part of the game, but doesn’t mean the card’ll end up in my hand.” Raptor chuckled. “I’ll let you go. See ya around.”
“See you.” Adrian hung up the call, letting his head tip back and hit the solid brick with a thunk. He puffed out the last of his cigarette, then tossed the burnt remains to the ground and smothered it with his boot. Sooty, blackened ash smeared into the snow and asphalt.
Raptor had taken the edge off his mood, but as soon as the conversation ended, the sting of impatience only hit harder. Years of wondering. Years of nothing. Why couldn’t he act ?
He struck the wall with a fist, hard enough to feel the force of it break his skin and the metal rings to bruise his bone.
Fuck. Pain shot into his fingers, and he slumped against the brick.
This was no way to handle things. He needed to be smart, not impulsive. That’s why he’d called Raptor in the first place. And this certainly wasn’t the right mood for an engagement party.
His father taught him to fight, not to back down no matter the opponent, but also to see reason. To put family first—and Caspian might as well be family. When he heard Caspian was putting on a small party, he’d been happily surprised. It was no secret that his friend went through a rough patch in their first year, and this only showed how Nia helped him get back on his feet in more than one way.
Filling his lungs with icy air, he gathered all the thoughts about his father and the dragon tile, then shoved them into a box. He’d open that later.
Welcome warmth melted the frost clinging to his clothes and hair as he entered the building. Across the hall from his apartment, Caspian’s door hung partially open. Trickles of music and conversation leaked out as if in invitation. It didn’t sound like many people had come yet, but then again, it wasn’t supposed to be a big thing.
He flicked a glance to his door, debating whether to try and clean himself up. Before he reached a decision, however, his friend’s face popped into view.
“Hey puke hair, get your ass in here. We have cake.”
The familiar greeting made him crack a smile. “Nice to see you too, dog breath.”
Caspian still hadn’t gotten the memo that pink hair was as good as any other—but with the addiction to breath mints the guy had, it was easy enough to tease him back.
Half a step inside, the temperature in Caspian’s apartment hit him full blast. It must have been between about 70 degrees because not only did he thaw out instantly, he started to sweat. Shrugging out of his jacket, he stepped in the rest of the way.
“How many bodies you got in this place? Feels like summer in the middle of fucking January.”
Caspian chuckled. “That’s from the oven and not leaving the porch open like someone I know.” Adrian ignored the subliminal jab. “No, there’s only four of us.”
—Four?
Himself, Caspian, Nia, and…
His eyes moved over the combined living room and kitchen, and then, with a catch in his chest, he recognized the fourth guest.
His sweet little wanna-be-evil witch, working her magic in the kitchen. Ivory.
In all the mess earlier, he’d forgotten she’d likely be here since she was Nia’s friend. But he didn’t think she’d be the only other guest. He narrowed his eyes at Caspian. “More people are coming, right?”
Caspian shook his head. “I did say it’d be small.”
Adrian groaned under his breath.
Nia came over to hover at Caspian’s side and gave Adrian a polite smile. “Glad you could come.”
He pursed his lips. Had this been some kind of girl pact, then?
“Thanks for the invitation,” he said, nodding to her and once again dismissing his preoccupations. “Congrats on the engagement, you two. Truly happy that you found each other.”
Nia beamed, then turned her face up at Caspian as he leaned down for a kiss.
Ugh.
He’d secretly been on team Nia ever since she got Caspian to be more self-aware, but he didn’t need a front row seat to their sappy affections.
He spared another glance past Caspian, where Ivory hummed in the kitchen and piped decorative swirls of white frosting on a round cake. Her hips swayed as she spun the plate on the counter, lips curved into a delicate smile.
The heat must not have gotten to her, because a sweater bunched at her elbows and hung just below the curve of her ass, tights hugging her long legs.
Damn. She was achingly gorgeous. And the last person he needed right now. She’d see through his attempts to hide his underlying frustration in a heartbeat.
Yet, even as the thought passed through his mind, a sense of calm accompanied her presence. His worries were overshadowed by the light she radiated, like a personal northern star. Her happy mood was contagious, and as he turned back to Caspian and Nia, he realized his emotional immune system had been severely compromised.
“Thanks for coming, man,” Caspian said, snapping him back to the conversation. “Means a lot.” But he’d caught Adrian’s wayward gaze and looked over to Ivory, then quirked an eyebrow at Nia, who blushed.
Well, now the cat was out of the bag.
“I’ll leave you two to chat, or whatever guys do,” Nia said and flitted off to Ivory’s side.
Caspian pinned him with a presumptuous smile and a silent question swirling in his blue eyes.
“It’s nothing,” Adrian said. “I’m not interested.”
Caspian laughed. “Sure. Whatever you say, man.”