I can’t let love make a single fucking decision for me.
There’s a storm brewing, and it’s one I can’t see, but I can feel it, just like I felt it all those years ago. I have to fucking figure out his intentions—his plays. And more than that, I have to be several moves ahead of him.
Without Palo, I’m a sitting duck. A phone call with Antoine isn’t going to convince me one way or the other. And without a word from him for the last month, I know it’s just a matter of time before he comes calling. This time, I’ll be ready. I’ve spent the last six years satiating his demands while trying to clean up my own fucking mess. My plans to rid myself of him are taking a back seat to the recovery of the club. I was intent on keeping him at bay while we rebuilt, and with Cecelia’s sudden arrival and my efforts to get back to her, I waited too fucking long to move in on him.
I never make the same mistake twice.
Because of love, I’ve made that declaration a lie.
And I’m a man In. Fucking. Love.
If it’s war this motherfucker is after, my peacekeeping days are long over.
Decision made, I stalk toward the house, and twenty minutes later, I speed out of the driveway in the Camaro.
“Order up, Cecelia,” Travis calls, just as I shoot off a text to Tobias. He’s been quiet all morning, which has me slightly on edge. I left him sleeping this morning and snuck away with a brief kiss to his lips, which he returned while attempting to pull me into him, still submerged in sleep.
“I’ve got it, boss,” my new hire, Alena, announces as the distinct sound of a familiar engine sounds in the parking lot drawing every eye toward the source of the noise. A second later, Tobias pulls to a screeching halt just in front of the doors as the hairs on my arms rise and panic sinks in. Too far from my Beretta, I scan the restaurant for anyone that might seem a threat. In the next second, he’s out of the Camaro looking both tortured and devastating in dark-washed jeans, a black T-shirt, and matching cardigan that showcases every inch of muscle in his tension-filled shoulders. But it’s the purpose in which he walks and the expression on his face that has me on high alert. When he charges through the door, all chattering ceases. I nearly jump out of my skin when Marissa sounds up behind me.
“Oh shit, girl. What did you do?”
He’s pure intimidation. His fire-filled eyes find mine across the counter as he prowls toward me, jaw set and hellfire running rampant in his eyes. He stalks toward me and rounds the counter, no fucks given about the spectacle he’s making. Swallowing, I brace myself for a fight when he reaches me, his eyes flitting with emotions I can’t pinpoint. Chest heaving, he looks like he’s about to burst at the seams as he stares down at me, demanding explanation but asking for none. I nearly flinch when he holds out his hand.
“Come with me.” His voice is hoarse as if he’s been screaming the entirety of the ride here.
“Tobias, I’m working.”
He nods over my shoulder to Marissa, and I follow his line of sight to see her grinning like a lunatic.
Traitor.
“She’ll be out for the rest of the day.”
“Tobias,” I begin to protest when he grips the back of my head and bends so we’re eye to eye, his tumultuous gaze tearing a hole right through my resolve. This isn’t the same man I kissed goodbye this morning. This is the very man who tore through my soul with a kiss the second time we met.
“Not debatable.” He scoops me off my feet in a fireman’s hold as more objections fly out my mouth and light laughter echoes around us. I’m barely able to sputter out quick orders as Marissa assures me that she’s got it handled while he carries me out of the restaurant. Opening the car door with ease, despite my weight, he deposits me in the Camaro, and a second later, we’re tearing out of the parking lot. Locked into the seat by speed alone, I can’t help but admire the sheer beauty of his profile and the power he exudes as he transitions the car easily from one gear to the next.