Page 46 of Storm's Deliverance

We both laugh. “We’ve just had a fight, and they didn’t kick us out,” I point out.

“Exactly, and I think you will find it will draw in business for them,” Enzo says, gesturing to our bare chests.

Strom rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Come on, Maisy. I need more alcohol if we are going to be dealing with these douchebags all night.” She links her arm with Maisy’s. Maisy just gives a small, awkward smile to Enzo before walking off with Storm.

I hook my T-shirt through my belt loop. “You good now?” I ask once they are out of earshot.

“Better.” He nods. “Come on, let’s get a fucking drink.”

The night is fun as we all drink, laugh, and relax, forgetting about past events. Enzo had at least three women stood around him every time he went to the bar. He never went off with one, though. I couldn’t tell if that was because he wanted to keep an eye on his sister or Maisy.

The bar is just across from the church, and the shadows of the night sky make it look eerie. I take a sip of my drink, gazing at it. I’m not drunk. I want to be on high alert so she can enjoy herself. After everything, she needs this.

“Hey!” Storm says, swaying on her feet beside me, her cheeks rosy and her eyes hooded from the alcohol.

I grin. “Hey, you having a good time?” I ask her.

She bites down on her bottom lip, smirking. “Yeah, sooo much fun,” she slurs, giggling. “Do you remember when we used to play truth or dare?” she mumbles.

“I do.” I smile back, my eyes drinking her in.

“Dare me,” she goads.

I shake my head. “I ain’t about to dare you to do jack shit while you are in this state.” I laugh.

“Come on!” she urges. “Anything.” She tries to wink, but it looks more like she’s got something in her eye.

I throw my head back and laugh. “Fuck, is that you trying to sweet-talk me?”

She snorts. “Maybe.” The word slurs off her tongue as she sways. Her foot catches on nothing, and she pitches forward, but I catch her before she can fall. My hands close around her waist, steadying her against me. She giggles, and the sound is soft and careless. Then she tips her head back. The laughter dies and her eyes lock onto mine.

For a second, neither of us moves. Her gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, then down again.

“BB,” I warn, my voice rough enough that I barely recognise it.

A frown creases her forehead. “I hate it when you call me that,” she mutters. “I’m not some biker brat.”

My mouth twitches. “No, you’re not.”

She blinks up at me. “No?”

“It means something different now.”

Confusion flickers across her face. “What?”

My fingers slide through a strand of midnight-black hair, tucking it behind her ear. The silk of it catches against my knuckles.

“Bullet Beauty.”

Her brows pull together. “Why?”

God help me.

Because every time you walk into a room, my pulse kicks up like a live wire. Because you’ve been driving me insane for years. Because I can’t stop looking at you.

Instead, I trace my thumb along her jaw.

“Because you walk into a room and stare down the most dangerous man there without blinking.”