Page 38 of Betting Blind

Chapter 21

Hayden

“What do you mean they gave us a fucking deadline?” I snap and slam my hands down on the table. A few men from the table beside us look over their shoulders, but I ignore their glares. Instead, I throw my own at Declan.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have three days to get this shit sorted, or they're going to be sorting us,” he says in a low voice. “They aren’t happy that we aren’t delivering.”

“Fuck them and their stout ale,” I hiss and drag my fingers through my hair. “They’ve always been snakes in the grass. I’ve never trusted them. I told you from the beginning.”

Declan holds up his hands in defeat. “We’re the ones to blame. We’ve been distracted and doing our own things with this case.” He looks pointedly at me, and I shrug.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but my surveillance has been mostly necessary,” I retort and fold my arms across my chest.

“Mostly,” Silas mutters under his breath.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Whose side are you on, huh?” Silas holds up his hands but says nothing so I continue, “Things have changed. I want out.”

“Things have not changed,” Declan snaps and looks over at the bar where Emelia is wiping out glasses with a rag. “You can’t just say ‘I’m out’ and walk away. You know this.”

“The hell I can’t,” I nearly shout and stand, pushing my chair back and dropping my cards to the table. “The situation has changed. I can’t go through with this knowing that she could get hurt,” I hiss under my breath and stalk out of The Black Crown.

“Hayden?” Emelia calls my name as the door closes behind me.

I can’t do this with her in the picture, and I can’t not have her in my picture. Things are different, no matter how hard Declan tries to fight it. I’ve lost too many pieces of my soul already, and I can’t bear the thought of losing another piece that just came into the light.

My bike rumbles beneath me, and I flip my visor down over my eyes. I’m not going to execute a job that could turn into a bloodbath. I can handle a lot of blood on my hands, but I can’t bear the thought of a single drop of Emelia’s blood spilling because of me. The bike shoots off into the street, and I let out a deep sigh as the wind whips around me.

I make it six miles before my phone starts ringing. I answer on the Bluetooth in my helmet. “No,” I bite out before they have a chance to speak.

“Well fuck you too,” Emelia bites back, annoyance coloring her tone.

I mentally smack myself in the forehead with my palm. Of course it would be her. “Sorry, Angel, I thought it was going to be Declan.”

“Yeah. I figured. It looked like you left in a hurry. They left shortly after, but I didn’t have time to confirm tonight. Am I still coming over, or is this a bad time?” I can practically see her chewing on her bottom lip as she asks the question.

“Give me three hours,” I say and lean my body to the right to take a sharp curve on the backroad that I had been traveling.

“See you then,” she confirms and hangs up. My stomach lurches with excitement. I just saw her not even ten minutes ago, but dammit if I don’t get giddy whenever she’s around. Her darkness calls to mine, and I know that I don’t have to hide when I’m with her. She’s quickly climbing the ranks to be as important to me as Declan and Silas.

That thought gives me pause. Do I know her enough to allow her to be that important to me? Do I trust her enough? My brain says fuck no, she’s too slippery, but my heart says fuck yes, she’s your soulmate. At this point, I’m not sure who to listen to.

My phone rings again and this time I’m confident that it’s Declan. “What?” I snap and make another leaning turn, this time I’m so low that my knee scrapes across the pavement. Thank fuck for padding in this riding suit.

“We’ve come to an agreement,” Declan says in a clipped tone. “We’re waiting for you at the house. Hurry the fuck up so we can get this over with.”

A grin stretches across my face as I double back on my bike and head home. “Are we playing for it?”

Declan groans and I know the answer. “Loser deals with the Irish.”

I hang up and let out a “Whoop!” and pump my fist into the air. At least we are getting somewhere.

I park my bike in the garage two hours later and stalk into the house. “Alright, boys, who’s dealing?” I ask and rub my palms together.

Silas looks up from his spot on the couch and grins. He wants out just as much as I do.

Declan waltzes into view shuffling a deck of cards between his hands. “You know I always deal, asshat, now sit down and listen.”

“Fine,” I level him with a wicked grin as I drop to the floor at the coffee table. “But I’m not calling you daddy.” I watch with sick satisfaction as a blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks under his trimmed beard.

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