Page 31 of Six
He can’t do that. He won’t!
I grit my teeth against the anger and embrace the protectiveness washing over me.
“Hey, calm down. Didn’t mean to rattle you again,” Rami replies to my growl. “Lenny said the fight will take place in another location.”
“Where?”
“Didn’t say. Not yet. We’ll find a way to stall.”
“No stalling. Ollie doesn’t fight,” I hiss between my gritted teeth.
“And how are you going to stop that from happening? Tie the twunk to your bed till we end whoever is responsible?” He snorts derisively. But his mouth falls open when he sees my pondering expression.
“Whoa, a brazen mouth and tight ass, and you’re a fucking goner.”
I grab the wheel and tighten my fingers around the worn brown leather. “Stop looking at his ass.” Another growl leaves my lips, and Rami’s eyes widen.
“That’s a nice impersonation of a jealous, demon-possessed cheerleader.”
Rami is the embodiment of exasperation.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I sigh. “I haven’t had a red haze attack in fucking four years. But I got close a bunch of times. I just need some time to completely calm down.”
Rami nods in understanding. Music is coming out of the radio, I kept the volume low, but the melodious notes are soothing me. My head drops back on the headrest, and behind my eyelids, Ollie’s face appears. His cute angular chin and that pair of light green eyes. That boy surely does something to me.
“Awww, you look miserable when you’re in lurve.” My brother draws a heart in the air with his black gloved index fingers.
“Fucking stop. I need to find him.” And somehow stop him from fighting. Something in me keeps saying,must protect, must keep safe.But can I?
“I could get his cell number…if you tell me what happened with him.” Rami finishes with what he thinks is a coaxing tone. How the fuck does he know something happened? Am I that transparent now?
I shield my annoyed expression and crook my finger at him. He leans toward me with an eager face. When he’s close enough, I grab his nape, yank his head to the left, and ignoring his affronted cry, I growl into his earpiece, “Serena, find Oliver Truman’s cell phone number, please.”
“On it, Rague,” she answers.
Rami jerks his head back, and I let him go. He looks pissed. He doesn’t like to be touched and for a completely different reason than mine. He only allows us a slap on the back of his head or a bump on his shoulder whenever we just have enough of him. But nothing else.
I should show some remorse, but I still feel raw and pissed.
“You’re a fucking asshole!” he barks. “And the earpiece is not a microphone, dipshit.” He points angrily at his ear. He’s got me there.
“Serena heard me just fine.” I shrug. “Where’s the microphone then?” My eyes slide down his face and torso. His leather jacket isn’t suitable for this cold weather, but he looks fine.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He huffs while opening the car door. “Asshole.”
He gets out, and before I can say anything, slams the door so hard, the pickup jerks. Fuck!
I see him stomping all the way to his car. And I do feel bad about it. Our past demons created our limits, and I shouldn’t have pushed Rami’s. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the problem. I need to fix it. Maybe he’ll just accept my heartfelt apology?
Thirty minutes later, I’m at home when I get a text with a phone number. Ollie’s. And then a pic of Rami’s middle finger. The regretful and succinct message I sent him a few minutes ago didn’t work as I’d hoped. Shit.
I copy Ollie’s phone number into my very short list of contacts and type a text.
Me-Cancel the fight
Ollie-God, is that u? Can u put me in contact with Lucifer? I think I’d have more fun talking to him
