Page 27 of Full Throttle

I waved my hand. “I get that. I know your name. I know you’re married to Jeremy’s sister. I know you wear expensive suits, and Cain’s brother works for you. But who are you? What do you do?” I rushed out quickly.

Collin looked to Jeremy, who was standing at the end of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. They communicated silently for a second before Jeremy said, “Leon said you wanted to know the truth, and we are going to give it to you. Collin is here to help with that.” He moved then, taking a seat beside me. “If you want to leave Oasis after, we’ll arrange a fight for you back to Denver.”

My blood ran cold.

“Once Cain is finished with your car, we can bring it to you…or have it shipped. Whatever you prefer,” the Oasis leader continued, no sensing my reaction.

“Jeremy—”

He angled his body towards me, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing. “You aren’t a prisoner. You are free to leave whenever you want. Got that?”

Slowly, I nodded. “I’ve known this since the beginning. You and the boys have been very kind to me about everything.”

Jeremy’s face softened just a fraction. “You’re Oasis, Nikki.”

“I’m Oasis,” I repeated. “I have no intentions of leaving.”

“I’d put a pin in that topic until you hear what I have to say,” Collin cut in.

I looked up at him. I was tired of being in the dark. I was Oasis. No more waiting. “Then say it,” I dared him.

“Here we fucking go,” Jeremy muttered under his breath, rising from the couch. He came to stand beside Collin. Sullie remained by the front door, leaning against it, watching.

My eyes met Collin’s as he gave me the cold, hard, shocking truth.

Nothing had rocked me that hard since Cain…

“My name is Collin Stevens. I’m the Don of the Italian Mafia,” the man said simply.

“Oh fuck,” I breathed.

He smiled, and my stomach plummeted.

Chapter Six

Cain

Twenty-six years ago. Detroit, MI.

The front yard, underneath the skinny oak tree, used to be my favorite spot in the world.

I liked being outside. I liked the warmth the sun gave me. Our house was always cold, even in the summer. I think it was because there was never any love in it. I was old enough to know the difference now. My buddy from school, his house was always warm and…pretty.

I looked up from my spot on the ground, my bike currently in pieces, my eyes taking in the chipping white paint, the broken screen on the front door, the trash all over the porch, Mom’s old cigarette buds piled all around her smoking chair. Every night after the sun went down, she’d come out and smoke all night. Shaking my head, I felt embarrassed. The outside of the house looked sad, but the inside was worse. I hoped that one day, that TV show would knock on our door and clean it out. Mom kept everything she found interesting, even trash.

I blew out a breath and looked back down to my bike. I was almost too tall for it now, but I haven’t been able to find another one in the junkyard by the high school yet. Since early this morning, I’d been out here, taking it apart with an old wrench I found in the boxes from the shed. I wanted to see if I could make the seat taller, more comfortable for my legs. I also took the chain off. I needed to get more oil on it, but I would have to find some.

My head snapped up with I heard her, forgetting my bike as I watched my new neighbor bounce down the steps of her porch. She was wearing a light-yellow dress with clovers on it and white shoes. I’d never seen shoes so white before. Hanging from her arm was a pink basket filled with colors, and she was talking to her dad.

That wasn’t the right word.

I felt my brows come together as I tried to remember that word Mom used when she was yelling at us the other day.

Blabbering.

She was blabbering again.

All this girl did was blab about stupid shi—stuff. Stupid stuff.

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