The Ride Home

VEX POV

In the private room my jaw tightens as she slips away. A flash of something dangerous crosses my face—not rejection, but challenge. Something I’m not use to.

I follow the mysterious girl out of the private rooms. Watching from a distance.

Stupid girl not even realizing she’s being tailed by two of the eastern territories mafia men… Robert.

Robert Mason a snake of all snakes. How he ever became a mafia boss will remain a mystery. He’s reckless, and idiotic. Making anyone more dangerous than him. He’s weak. Probably why there’s rumors of him marrying his daughter off to Ajax.

Ajax ruthless as they come. Even Children and women aren’t off limits. That’s why I won’t do business with him. Even though I’m no one to be messed with… I don’t kill women or children.

The mysterious girl burst through the back exit. She’s bothered… perhaps by me? She catches her breath, smelling her blouse. My scent, still remaining.

My driver, Kade and I go get my car before the two men notices she’s left the club. Something tells me she’s going to need the ride.

I watch the small brunette walk across the parking lot. Keeping our distance at first.

When I’ve watched enough, I motion Kade to pull up next to her. I lean over the back console,

“Need a ride, sweetheart? Or you gonna keep running?”

“Tick tock. Your choice.”

I can tell she’s weighing her options carefully. Two strange men walking up behind her, or two strange men in a car?

“Fine” She says. She slides into the back of the Aston Martin. Sliding in next to me. Her perfume…. Cheap but intoxicating.

My driver and right hand man, Kade, in the front.

I lean in close to her.

“where to baby girl?”

BRYNN POV

The door clicks shut with finality. The two men retreat like shadows, their job done. The interior smells of expensive leather and something darker—him

He settles beside you, close enough that his thigh presses against yours. He doesn't touch you otherwise, but his presence fills the confined space completely. His driver—a broad-shouldered man with blond hair, a man bun, and a full face beard —waits silently.

“Where to, baby girl?”

His voice has dropped an octave, intimate and proprietary. The endearment sounds like a claim in his mouth. His eyes travel slowly down your body, lingering on your lips, your neck, lower. He reaches out, one tattooed finger tracing the line of your jaw.

“I asked you a question. Don't make me ask twice.”

I push his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

He smirks leaning back in the seat.

“You have fire in you.”

I think of where I can go. I don’t want to give him my address.

“Corner of main and Washington, please” I tell the broad shouldered driver.

The driver nods then presses a button and the privacy window rolls up. Leaving me alone with… him.

The car glides into traffic, streetlights strobing across his face. His smirk deepens at your defiance

“You're different. Most people are too smart to tell me no.”

He studies you with unnerving focus, head tilted slightly. His hand moves to the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a silver flask. He takes a slow sip, then offers it to you.

“Dutch courage? You look like you could use it.”

The privacy window creates an illusion of intimacy that feels suffocating. His cologne—expensive, with notes of cedar and something metallic—fills the space between you.

“What's your name?”

His question sounds casual, but his eyes say he's already memorizing every detail about you.

I push the flask away.

“You don’t need to know my name. I’m only in this car because you seemed like the lesser of the two evils.”

His laugh is a low, dangerous rumble. He recaps the flask with deliberate movements, sliding it back into his jacket.

“Lesser evil? Sweetheart, I'm the worst thing that'll ever happen to you.”

His phone buzzes. He checks it, jaw tightening imperceptibly before typing a quick response. The car turns onto a wide boulevard, city lights reflecting off the tinted windows.

“You think you know what evil looks like?”

He shifts closer, the leather seat creaking beneath his weight. His hand slides along the back of the seat, not touching you but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“Tell me something. What were you doing in my club? Alone.”