Chapter 48
Reeve
Idreamed of the day Electra would know my name, but in every version of that dream, I whispered it to her first.
A snarl followed by a low curse snaps my attention off the Atlantean. Metal arcs through the air and hits the gravel road—her father’s knife. The reddened blade makes me scour what I can see of Quinn’s chest and neck behind Malachi’s large paws.
He better not have cut her.
I start toward them, but my body collides with…nothing.
I shoot my gaze toward Electra just as Quinn growls, “Get your hands off me, you brute.”
Malachi shackles my friend’s flailing wrists in one fist while using the other to cuff her neck. “Now, why would I do that, Mrs. Caruso?”
If Quinn wasn’t already pissed, the sound of the hateful last name I haven’t been able to free her from turns her cheeks a flaming red. Even her scar seems to color beneath the brim of my cap. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?” Malachi jerks his chin toward me, the lenses of his sunglasses glinting in the afternoon sun. “Just like Reeve is his.”
I look back toward Electra, whose expression is as bladed as the tip of my fallen knife. “How did you find me?”
Electra’s lid twitches. “You mean…how did I find out about you?”
“No. I meant, how did you locate me?”
“That’s what’s preoccupying you?”
“Yes. Because if you found us, then so could Quinn’s ex.”
Electra’s eyebrows jolt before slanting so low they cast her beautiful eyes in shadow. I wished she’d thought of shading them like Malachi to hide their reflective quality, considering the handful of onlookers that are peering at us from the safety of the surrounding shops.
When I realize that those videos will end up on various social platforms, I mutter a quiet, “Quinn, stop fighting them.”
“Stop fighting them?” My friend blinks as though I’ve lost my damn mind.
I’m not entirely sure that I haven’t.
“We have an audience,” I whisper.
The blood drains from her face because she knows Trenton has a team of people monitoring social media at all times.
“Our best bet of surviving is going with them.” I meet Malachi Hadez’s wary blue stare. “I don’t doubt you’re tempted to kill us right now, but please hear us out before you make any decision.”
His lips squeeze as though he’s trying to figure me out. I wish him luck. I can barely figure myself out. The only thing I’ve figured out is that I care for Electra more than I ever wanted to or expected.
“Get in the car, Rafferty,” he finally mutters, jerking his chin toward his boxy, matte-black SUV as he walks Quinn to the backseat.
Electra circles me, holding out her palm. “Your bag.”
I don’t hesitate to hand it over, which causes her lashes to flutter with surprise. I know cooperating won’t save me, but I hope it might buy me enough time to explain everything to Electra.
She floats my black duffel onto the SUV’s hood, then proceeds to pat me down.
“I have a switchblade. Right pocket. Nothing else,” I tell her.
She fishes it out and pockets it. “Like I’ll ever take your word again.” Her whisper is low and hard, laced with both anger and hurt.
I hate that I’ve caused her both.
Even though Electra isn’t feeling me up for pleasure, my limp dick perks up when her hands skim my waistband and ass before sweeping downward. I grow even harder when she crouches to trace my legs and circle my ankles.
“Really?” she huffs out as she straightens, her eyes dragging over my bulge before narrowing on my face.
As Malachi loads Quinn into the backseat of the Mercedes, I drop my voice to a whisper. “Wanting you was never one of my lies.”
Her pupils shrink in their sparkling ocean of blue and gold. “Doubt Quinn appreciates the sentiment.”
I’m about to tell her that it’s not like that between us when police sirens cleave the summer air.
“Get in the car. Now,” she bites out.
I indulge her and climb into the expensive ride, letting my gaze roam over Quinn just as she snipes at Malachi, “You deserved it, you prick.”
“I deserved a knife in the bicep?” Malachi asks, his tone almost…amused.
Though blood has soaked into his baby-blue shirt sleeve, the way he’s moving his arms tells me he’s probably already healed.
“I don’t appreciate being manhandled.”
“Consider yourself lucky I used my hands and not my magic, Mrs. Caruso.”
Quinn glowers at Malachi. “Hayes. Quinn Hayes. Or just Quinn.”
Malachi merely shuts her door before coming over to my side of the vehicle.
During the brief minute Quinn and I are alone in the car, I ask, “Did he hurt you?” at the same time as she mutters, “Can’t believe you fell for an Atlantean.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m alive,” she huffs. “I thought you tossed your cell phone. How the hell did they track us?”
She asks this just as Malachi appears beside me, brandishing a zip tie that he slides around my wrists before immobilizing me with a seat belt.
Again, I don’t put up a fight, for a fight wouldn’t serve me. Our best bet to stay alive is to be docile and under Atlantean protection at this point.
“I put a tracker on your boyfriend’s car,” Malachi replies with practiced nonchalance.
Quinn doesn’t set him straight about our relationship status. I also don’t bother. The only person I want to set straight is currently chatting with two cops. Two male cops, one of whom keeps eye-fucking her in a way that makes my jaw pop.
When Electra beams at her admirer, my elbow itches to jam into my seat belt’s latch plate and then into my car handle.
“Whoa,” Quinn drones. “We’re not talking small crush, are we?”
I don’t reply, too busy glaring at the cop who just took his phone out of his uniform pocket and handed it over to Electra. “Is she giving him her number? What the fuck? Is that even allowed?”
I’m so concentrated on the exchange that I don’t notice Malachi climbing behind the wheel until he says, “Officer Stevens is a good, wholesome kid.”
I meet his aviator-shaded gaze in the rearview mirror. To think he played a pivotal role in my beginnings with Electra.
“By the way, Rafferty, you and she are done.” Malachi twists in his seat and lowers his shades as though he plans on hypnotizing me.
When his eyes don’t light up, I deduce he just wants to look me in the eye to deliver the nail in the coffin of my relationship to Electra.
“I don’t care why you pulled any of the shit you did.
All I care about is that you hurt her. Try anything again, and I’ll give you the same fate her father gave yours. Am I clear?”
My molars clench. My knuckles pop. I think I hear Quinn swallow, but that could be in my head.
“Am I clear?” Malachi repeats.
I avert my gaze. “I heard you.”
Electra finally makes her way back to us, while her new buddies head toward the gathered crowd, arms outstretched as though to sweep them back.
“Am. I. Clear?” Malachi growls as Electra hops in.
She pushes her dark, silken locks back. “Clear about what?”
Will Malachi dare tell her? And if he does, will she laugh and promise him that she’ll never again look at me the way she looked at me last night?
“Clear about what happens if they try to dive out of the vehicle,” Malachi mutters, pulling out of his parking spot.
Electra hikes up an eyebrow, stealing a glance first at Quinn, then at me. Where she doesn’t linger on me, she does linger on Quinn—more specifically, on her cheek.
Quinn twists her head, pressing her scar into the headrest.
Without asking what happened to her, Electra turns back around. “Callie says we can use the house. She’ll join us with Tarian after their appointment tomorrow.”
Quinn’s gaze returns to mine, flashing with unconcealed fear. How I wish I could reach out and squeeze her hand to reassure her that everything will be okay.
But will it?