“Yeah.”
He scrubs a hand over his face as he watches me, trying to work out why the hell I’m asking about her.
“Had a shit start in life. I know that much. Dad was a violent piece of shit. He’d knock the hell out of the girl and drink until he forgot what he’d done. Levi found out and took her out of the house. She was doing okay then she went off the fucking rails, drinking, out all the time. She’s driving Levi around the bend. I thought it was something to do with Sasha. It kicked off after she got back. Thought maybe they had beef—you know what bitches are like—but they get on. They’re friends, even.” He shrugs as he stares at me a beat and I feel the weight of that look. “Heard you dragged her out of a Sic Bastards club the other night.”
“Yeah, fuck knows what she was doing there. She was a fucking mess.”
“Levi said she didn’t know.”
She’d said that to me too, and while I believe her, I’m still pissed. She needs to be more alert to this shit. She could end up in a dangerous situation otherwise.
“She’s Sons property. She needs to be more fucking careful.” But it’s Levi’s job to inform her of where she’s allowed to go.
“Agreed, but she’s young too,” he says, as if I need that reminder.
I know exactly how young she is. I know all too fucking well. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could switch off the desire I feel for her, but I can’t. It makes me a sick fucking bastard. My body is constantly at war. My dick wants that sweet pussy, which makes my mind and gut twist at the fucked up thoughts I’m having. Hell, I can’t sleep lately thinking about her, and while I can’t have her, I can protect her. I’m going to do everything I can to keep her safe, whether she wants it or not.
“She’s just pushing boundaries,” Titch continues. “Ain’t like she’s looking for trouble.”
Her words reverberate around my head. “It’s too late…”
What the fuck happened to her?
“She ever mention anything happening to her?”
“Like what?”
I sigh and push to my feet. “I’m heading out, brother.”
“Day?” Titch saying my name stops my retreat. I turn to him, my hair dripping into my eyes. “She in trouble?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I admit and the words sour in my stomach. I should know.
Troubled lines appear on his face at my words, but I don’t give him the chance to question more. I rap my knuckles on the bar and make my exit.
Needing to clear my head, I head out to my bike. The evening air is cool and refreshing. The air in the common room felt stifling, too thick, heavy. I snag my helmet and pull it on, as well as my skull bandanna. Once both are in place, I start the engine and kick the stand up.
My stomach churns as I pull out of the compound, and I’m not sure why, but an unease sweeps over me. What happened to Brie, and why the fuck won’t she tell me? I have no destination in mind as I ride aimlessly around the borough, my head full of her. I’m so deep in my thoughts that I don’t realise I’ve ridden to her flat until I’m on the road outside the building.
I pull up at the kerb, my gut rolling, even as a thread of excitement rolls through me. I shouldn’t be here, but the thought of seeing her, even if it’s only for a second, has my stomach doing somersaults. I sit for a moment, astride my bike, staring up at the window, before sense returns. This is fucking ridiculous. I want to talk to her. Since when have I been such a pussy?
Kicking the stand down, I pull my helmet off and climb off the bike. Then I stalk towards the flat door. It looks the same as it did when me, Levi and Titch moved her in a few months ago. I pause before the red door, my brain screaming at me to abort, to walk away, but I can’t. I need fucking answers and I’m going to get them, even if I have to drag them out of her one piece at a fucking time.
I rap my knuckles against the door and step back, waiting. It feels like it takes an age for movement to be heard on the other side of the wood, but in reality, it only takes a couple of seconds.
When it opens, my breath catches in my throat I’m greeted with Briella. She looks stunning, fresh-faced, no makeup on and her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. The oversized sweater she’s wearing hides her curves, which annoys me.
“Daimon…” She breathes my name, staring at me like I’m an apparition.
“Are you going to ask me in, or are we doing this on the doorstep?”
My brash tone has her brows coming together and her words are sharp when she speaks.
“Did you come here just to be a dick?”
“No,” I soften my voice before I push around her and step into the flat, taking the choice of inviting me in out of her hands. Patience is not one of my strong points.
I step into the small kitchen slash living area and take in her corner sofa, television and little knick-knacks around the room. It’s clear two girls live here. There’s a pile of heeled shoes by the front door and a little pile of makeup shit on the end table at the edge of the sofa. Everywhere I look, I can see trails of girly shit.
I turn and peer at Briella who has wrapped her arms around herself and is looking anywhere but at me. I want to grab her chin and force her eyes to meet mine, but I keep my hands at my side. I don’t have the right to touch her. Yet.
Fuck, where did that come from?
“What are you doing here, Daimon?” she asks finally, breaking through the silence.
“I needed to see you.”
“Why?”
“You said shit I can’t erase out of my fucking mind, darlin’. I need to know what you meant.”
She shifts uncomfortably and she moves into the kitchen, swaying slightly on her feet. My eyes narrow.
“You drunk?” I demand.
She waves me off. “No.”
I close the space between us and grab her upper arm, turning her towards me. The stench of booze on her breath nearly knocks me out.
“You’re fucking trashed. Where the hell is Layla?”
“At work.” She drags her arm free. “Quit grabbing me all the fucking time.”
I pounce down on the anger that is brewing in my belly. “You’re just sitting at home, getting wasted on your own?”
“So, what if I am?” Briella goes to her toes and hisses in my face. “Why is that any of your fucking business?”
“Because I fucking care about you!” I roar at her and she recoils, stepping back, her face a mask of fear.
I don’t want to scare her, but my anger is pumping through my veins. I can’t control it. She’s spiralling in front of my eyes and I don’t know how the hell to help her.
“Is this a regular fucking thing?”
Tears brim in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. “Leave, please.” It’s a plea.
I don’t move.
“You drinking to forget?” I push, even though I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. She’s close to breaking as it is.
She fists her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut. Pain wrenches through my chest, fingers crushing my throat as I struggle to breathe. Whatever is happening is worse than I thought. The anguish written across her beautiful features shreds me.
“Stop it!” she begs. The fear in her voice cuts through me like a thousand knives.