Page 8 of Devils Cut

"Killer's workin' door duty these days," he said, chuckling. "Said she came by your office today. The girl must've made an impression, huh?"

"Something like that," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. What was it about Tempest that had me so off-kilter?

"Man, Killer even snapped a pic of her leaving," Nate continued, smirking as he held up his phone. "She's a skinny little thing, ain't she? Put some meat on those bones and she'd be good enough to eat."

I clenched my jaw, feeling a surge of possessiveness I hadn't expected. "Keep your eyes on your own fucking plate, Nate. She's not here for your entertainment."

"Whatever you say, VP," he said with a sly grin, dropping the subject.

"Listen up," I growled, my voice low and serious as I glared at the men surrounding me. "Tempest is off-limits. She doesn't want to be touched, and I intend to respect her request."

"Aw, Corvus, are you in love with the jailbait already?" Nate teased, smirking as he leaned against the side of the van.

"Fuck you, Nate," I snapped, feeling my temper flare. "This ain't about love or lust. It's about respecting a woman's goddamn boundaries. She's got some demons, and I won't have any of you pricks adding more to her plate."

"Alright, alright," Hammer conceded, raising his hands defensively. "We won't touch her. Happy now?"

"Damn straight," I muttered, my eyes scanning the surroundings as I tried to push thoughts of Tempest from my mind. This wasn't the time or place for distractions.

"Good," Trey chimed in, noting the tension in my voice. "Now let's focus on this gun exchange. We've been doing business with these guys for years, and we need to keep it that way."

"Agreed," I said, nodding firmly.

"Enough talk," Hammer grunted, hauling crates into the waiting van.

The movement back and forth in front of the van’s headlights cast long shadows over the warehouse as men moved with purpose, loading crates of guns into vans. Their movements were efficient, a well-rehearsed dance they'd performed countless times before.

"Safe travels," I called out to the guys riding off, my voice rough and serious. The roar of their engines faded into the night, leaving me and my crew in the dark silence.

"Good work, boys," I said, nodding at Trey, Hammer, and Nate. "Let's get our asses back to our families."

"See you tomorrow, Corvus," Hammer grunted, strapping on his helmet before climbing onto his motorcycle. Trey and Nate followed suit, exchanging quick goodbyes before taking off down the road.

Alone now, I pulled the thick wad of cash from the exchange out of my jacket pocket. My fingers fumbled slightly as I secured it in my bike bag, thoughts of Tempest clouding my focus.

"Damn, I was screwed”

Chapter 5

Tempest Miller

Iarrive at 11 am sharp the next day, wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a black high-neck singlet top. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach the entrance, knowing full well that going inside means facing my fears head-on. The thought of men getting too close makes me shudder, and I hold myself tight as if trying to shield my body from their unwanted advances.

"Alright, deep breaths," I mutter under my breath, steeling my resolve. "You got this."

The familiar scent of leather and whiskey hits me as I push open the heavy door, my heart pounding in my chest. I grip my bag tightly to my side, trying to keep a safe distance from any men who might be lurking too close.

"Good morning, Miss Miller," a deep voice calls out, causing me to jump. I glance up to see the same man who's been guarding the door the last two times I've been here. Today, though, he acknowledges me with a nod and a warm smile that reaches his bright blue eyes.

"Uh, hi," I stammered, taken aback by his sudden friendliness. He's tall, maybe over six feet, with messy blonde hair and a goofy grin that somehow draws me in despite my reservations around men. "What's your name?"

"Killer," he replies, chuckling when I raise a sceptical eyebrow. "Nah, it's just a nickname. My real name's Killian. Everyone calls me Killer, though."

"Nice to meet you, Killer," I say, forcing a small smile as I turn and walk inside the bar. His presence at the door is both reassuring and unnerving; part of me feels safer knowing he's there to keep an eye on things, while another part can't shake the fear that comes with being around a man nicknamed "Killer."

As I step into the dimly lit room and I make my way over to where Amanda is, behind the bar.

"Hey," I call out, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "How do I get back there?"

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