Page 4 of Fire
“The Reivers adding models to their hate list these days?”
“Probably, knowing them,” Grave says nodding at the pic. “But he’s a journalist who’s writing articles about the Reivers that’s really pissing them off.”
“Wait.” I look closer, suddenly way more curious. “Is that Evan Kelly?”
Grave’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Hell, yes, I have.” I’ve been following his fiery, well-written articles, exposing the Reivers’ smuggling activities and their history of hate speech and crimes for the last few years in small press newspapers and online. Truth be told, I’m kind of a fanboy of the guy’s work.
I look at Evan’s pretty picture again. “I would have thought the guy writing those articles was an older, more seasoned journalist.”
“He’s only twenty-four, but Cash said he started writing those exposés because he has a legit axe to grind with the Reivers.” He taps the photo. “Look at him. Do you think this kid is prepared to protect himself from the kind of full-on hurt the Reivers are capable of dealing him?”
“Of course he’s not,” I agree, hating the panorama picture in my head of exactly what the Reivers would do to Evan Kelly if they catch up to him. “Who the hell is?”
Grave takes a long sip of his beer and leans toward me. “You are. You took everything the Reivers could throw at you and survived. You’re the perfect man to protect him.”
Fuck. I walked right into this one.
“Hold up,” I say, wishing there was another shot of tequila on the table—or hell, maybe the whole damned bottle. “That’s what this whole recruitment push is for. You want me to babysit some journalist?”
“Among other things. I just thought making sure Evan Kelly stays alive is right up your alley. You always were great at security.”
“The answer is still no,” I tell Grave, but the cocky half-smile that stays on his face through the rest of our reunion tells me he doesn’t believe me.
Hell, I can’t blame him. I don’t believe me.
I especially don’t believe myself this morning while driving to Adeline, Kentucky, to talk to Johnny Devon and Cash Mcree and join up with their fight.
Chapter 1
Evan
I type my address to my Grindr hookup but hesitate to hit send
Both Cash and Johnny have repeatedly warned me to stay off hookup sites. They’d said it’s a security breach and the Reivers could use it to gain easy access into my apartment.
My finger hovers over the delete button.
But does “Down to Fuk” really sound all that dangerous? Other than his douchey choice of usernames, the guy seems like a typical frat bro looking for a quick, no-strings orgasm.
Besides, what do Cash and Johnny know about needing to get laid? The two insanely hot men probably have guys throwing themselves at them all the time. Not that they’d notice. The two men are so crazy about each other that they barely notice anyone else exists.
I’m not jealous. I’m really not. Even though I might have had a few fantasies about Cash over the years—which is totally messed up considering he once threatened me and burned down my parents’ cabin. I’ve put him in the frenemy zone now, though, I swear.
And come to think about it, Cash and Johnny had been responsible for my last Grindr date going to hell, so why should I listen to those two cock blockers.
I hit send just as my cat Delilah jumps up on the couch, giving me a disapproving scowl.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her guiltily. “The Reivers aren’t going to go to the trouble of creating a fake Grindr profile to ferret me out. My articles about their criminal activity are barely on their radar. Not when the gang is doing such a bang-up job of disrupting their business and being general pains in their asses.”
I reach out to pet her, but she jumps down and prances away in a snit, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth in protest.
“Sometimes I need somebody other than a judge-y cat to share my bed,” I call out to her.
For a few minutes, I feel righteous for reclaiming my autonomy, but once the thrill of my rebellion fades, I start having second thoughts.
What am I doing? Is this hookup worth the risk? I’m more lonely than horny, and hooking up never solves the loneliness. It just makes it worse.
