Page 42 of Vapor

“Maybe not. But for now, I don’t want anyone going anywhere alone. Go in groups of at least two.”

“How are you going to get back?” Fang asks.

“I’ll follow her on my bike. I won’t get too close to the house. Don’t want them to know I’ve been in the area, especially tonight.”

“Who’s watching your back?” Ice asks.

“Nobody. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re the most obvious person to be on the cartel’s hit list. Let’s do this instead. You ride with her in the cage, then I’ll ride behind you guys. On the way back you can drive my bike, and I’ll ride bitch.” Ice holds up a hand before Vapor can protest.“Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“Okay,” he relents.“But stay out of sight.”

“Will do, Pres.”

As we walk toward the door, I take one last look around the club’s chamber of horrors. I hope I never see the inside of this place again.

Once we’re back inside my car, with him in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger seat, I turn to him.“Why did you call my car a cage?”

“That’s what we call anything that’s not a bike. When you’re riding, you’ve got freedom all around you. In a car, there’s nothing. It’s like being trapped in a cage.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” I say softly.

“I’m going to get you out of there.”

“My sister took me wedding dress shopping earlier today. Well, I guess yesterday now that it’s after midnight.” I’m babbling because being in a confined space with him is doing all kinds of crazy things to my body. My panties are wet, and he hasn’t so much as touched me.

“How’d it go?” he asks, even though I doubt he actually cares.

“Terrible. I wanted a pink one, but my sister forced me to buy a white one instead. Well, I didn’t purchase it. My father did.”

“Why did you go along with her choice instead of picking the one you actually liked?”

“Well…” I wring my hands in my lap.“I don’t actually intend to wear it.”

“Good. You won’t have to.”

“I’d feel a lot better if I knew what you had planned. I don’t understand how you could stop the wedding. And even if you did somehow manage to do it, you’d make two enemies for life.”

“Broussard and your father.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not letting them push you into a sham marriage. It’s not right.” He glanced at me before returning his gaze to the road.

“It’s been planned for years.”

“That long?” He frowns.

“Since I was much younger.”

“You’re twenty, right?”

“Yes.” I wonder if that’s a problem for him. I’m not sure how old he is, but he’s definitely not in his twenties anymore. My guess would be closer to thirty-five, but I’m too afraid to ask.

“Do you even want to get married? Ever?” he asks.

“One day. If I find the right man.”

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