Page 52 of Bound By Flames
“Cute you think so,” I say before blowing him a kiss in the air. “Now, out of my way, big guy. I’ve got a lot to do today.” And then I close the sliding door with a smug smile. Ares' face is priceless as I watch him disappear behind the sliding door, his jaw ticking and his fists clenching.
Dark, grumpy and dangerous.
In an ideal world, I guess those adjectives would scream "red flag."
But what can I say?
Red just makes me look so good.
Ares
“Still no trace of him, boss. Maybe he’ll show up tonight,” Shadow rasps, rubbing his chin, probably worried about his old lady, Erin.
I’ve secured every family member of my men—doubled security and added protection for the wives and kids. That’s where our enemies hit us. Nero’s been sending pictures of ourclose ones with red crosses over their faces, and I fucking hate it. Makes everyone tense when we should be focusing on expanding and not on trying to catch this motherfucker. We know they haven’t gotten close yet ‘cause I have intel outside our territory. But we need to find Nero, and fast, before somebody gets hurt.
Red hair flashes in my mind, but I shove it away. The thought reminds me of my girl, her hair all entangled and wild on our sheets this morning. I stayed up late watching her, then woke up even earlier than usual because I wanted to look at her face when she woke up and make sure she was okay. From her sassiness this morning, I think she’s good for now.
It fucking wrapped my chest in barbels when she told me about her mother punishing her with food. I’ve never cared about anyone to that degree, but fuck, knowing little Mia had to put up with so much shit doesn’t sit right with me. Which is why I called her father this morning after leaving our home to set up a meeting. The guy has no idea why we’re coming to see him, thinks it’s a fucking family visit.
Like hell, it is.
“Nah, he won’t be there tonight,” I say as I rest my palms on the wood of our massive mahogany table in the large room where we hold our meetings. Twelve seats decide the fate of hundreds of our men on the ground. I play it democratically because there are always more ideas in twelve heads than in one, but in the end, I always make the final call.
“Nero likes to put up a show. He won’t come directly to us, not here, at least. It’ll be twisted, more personal,” I explain, knowing the guy has a reputation for hitting where it hurts the most.
Family.
Wives.
Mia.
“Yeah, I agree. The folks here said he was trying to get rid of his human trafficking ring to take over drugs. No wonder he’s coming for us,” says my VP Vox from the speaker in the middle of the table. He’ll be there next week when Mia and I go to Chicago to see her family. He’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. Best right man a prez could ever think of. He’s set up three new warehouses, all running day and night on the West Coast and making us a fuck ton of money.
“What should be done about the threats, prez?” asks Blade, standing with his hands behind his back like he used to do in the army. Old habits die hard.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Think, just think, what would you do if you were Nero?
"We're not gonna wait here like sitting ducks," I snap, my voice hardening. "We'll set up teams on the ground and track his every move. I want to know where Nero was last night, what brand of coffee he drank this morning, and what car he plans to drive tomorrow. No stone unturned. We’re going on the offensive—if he’s coming for us, he’ll regret ever trying." I glance at my brothers, who are all nodding firmly.
Good.
“Start organizing the teams. Vox, I need intel on the last shipment intercepted at the Canadian border. Carter, you’ll be on duty with Ash tonight. I’m off to my office. If you need me, you know where I am,” I say firmly, letting Vox take the lead in the meeting and heading to my office, where there’s always so much to do. All the hours in the day could never be enough. Opening my computer, I immediately type what’s been on my mind since last night.
Search: Orthorexia.
I had never heard of this condition, but as she described it to me, I knew she wouldn’t be able to heal from it on her own. And I sure as hell won't make the same mistake her neglectfulparents did. I'll find the best damn doctor in the country, and I'll come with her if she needs me to. Already sent a text to the doc this morning to get a list of specialists he’d recommend for her.
As I look into it, I notice patterns I have seen in Mia since she came here. How she avoids certain food groups like carbs and oil, the way her body shuts down completely when she eats out of her list of approved ingredients, and how she literally spirals about mold growing in her body. The way she was concerned about going out tonight, and I fucking knew if I hadn’t asked Larry to make something for her, she would have questioned coming over.
Can’t let this thing run her life, especially such a smart and fiery person like her. I take a bit more time reading interviews about folks who have the same condition and get as much information as I can to be more prepared next time and think about what could trigger her in our home and out of it.
Thinking about my wife’s food. Didn’t think I would ever do that when I married her.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
And for Mia, I’m ready to go all in.
