Page 82 of Graves

He stands in the next moment, setting me to my feet before kissing the top of my head.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go take care of that little mess my woman made so beautifully,” he says with a wink before sauntering down the hallway.

I shake my head, smiling softly, before facing Dom.

“Shouldn’t we help him?”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He likes it.”

“Why?” I ask with furrowed brows.

“Because he’s fucked up, baby.” He laughs, forcing me to laugh too.

Is it actually funny, or are we just disassociating? Probably both.

Chapter Thirty-Six

BLAKE

I’m wearing a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a leather jacket despite it being nearly eighty degrees out today. The sun is setting, though, and if Zayden and I are going out, it’s going to be on his bike, and that shit gets cold even on the warmest of days.

He was gone for most of the night, taking care of what remained of Jim. Dominic cleaned the floors while Zayden went to the farm, and then Dominic and I fell asleep on the couch together. It was a perfect way to end an emotionallytaxing day. Tell me the last time you woke up in bed with one brother, went and slaughtered your childhood abuser with the other, fucked said brother in the man’s blood, only to have a threesome with both brothers? Yeah, it was a first for me too.

Dom has been gone all day today, though. He’s been at the office looking up all of Jim’s friends, and according to Zayden, Dom is so good he will have names and addresses for them within the night. The only thing they will have to be careful about is when they take them out, seeing as Jim’s disappearance has been blasted all over Chicago news outlets. They don’t want to let the police make any connections when all of the men go missing too, which seems smart. It’s not like they haven’t done this a hundred times before, literally.

Why was it almost comforting to know that Zayden isn’t just a lunatic with a short temper? To know that he kills people for money, that Dominic does too in a way. I assume he doesn’t actually get his hands dirty, at least anymore, if Zayden’s comment was anything to go off of. Knowing that they have an order to their chaos makes it somehow justifiable in my mind, which sounds crazy, I know.

I asked Dominic last night if they ever took jobs on women and children, and he said only women who truly deserve it and never children. So, that’s something, I guess? At least they aren’t out here slaughtering innocent families. More than likely if someone’s name ended up on one of these lists, it’s for a good reason.

Zayden is waiting for me in the kitchen, his fingers flying across the screen of his phone before his eyes come up to mine.They rake me over from head to toe, and he smirks before pocketing his phone and closing the distance between us.

“You look way too beautiful to be leaving this house, someone is gonna end up dead, angel.”

“Here’s hoping it’s not you. You’re my ride.”

Zayden barks out a laugh before pressing his lips to mine, pulling away with a shake of his head as he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

When we get on Zayden’s bike and leave the parking garage, we don’t get on the freeway like I expect, but instead, we head toward the industrial district of the city. He looks back at me and grins, though he can’t see me smiling through my helmet.

A few turns and another mile later, and we are in what can only be described nicely as a sketchy part of town. Motorcycles are lined up for nearly an entire block on either side of the road. There is a car blocking the roadway that we pull up to. A guy is sitting in the driver’s seat, and his eyes light up when he sees Zayden’s bike.

“What’s up, Ryan?” the guy shouts out to Zayden.

Zayden nods at him easily as he pulls a wad of money out of his pocket. He tosses it to him, and the guy catches it, inspecting the cash before nodding.

“Race starts in two minutes.”

Zayden nods once more, and we swerve around the car. Someone is bumping music so loudly that it’s filling the music all the way down the street. There has to be at least one hundred people out here, whether they are spectators or racers. It’s likethose racing movies but with motorcycles.

We don’t park to the side like a lot of the other bikes do. Instead, we pull up to a start line of sorts before Zayden puts the bike into neutral and turns to face me.

“Surprise.” He smirks.

I flip the visor up on my helmet and shake my head with a smile.

“This is your idea of a first date? Street racing?”

“You’ll love it. I always hear you giggling on the back when I get into it.”

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