When he finished with his call, Blade came back to me.  “What’s your phone number?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna check in on you, make sure Mario’s not giving you grief.”

“I can take care of myself, Blade,” I answered, annoyed.

“Yeah, I saw that.”  His sarcasm was not lost on me.

“We don’t need to exchange numbers.”

Frustration crossed his face, but he remained patient.  “Humour me, okay?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, fine,” I snapped and rattled off my number to him.

He saved it on his phone and then sent me a text message.  “Now you have mine, too.  Use it if you need me.”

I could imagine there were plenty of women who would kill to have that phone number.  Blade was a good-looking man and had a mysterious sexiness about him, but there was no way in hell I would ever be using that number.  However, I nodded in agreement.  I figured he wouldn’t leave until I agreed to that.

“Good,” he murmured, and began to walk away from me.

I let my gaze drop to his ass.  He had a great ass and the jeans he wore hugged him, accentuating it.  My gaze travelled up his body.  He was wearing a black t-shirt and black leather jacket.  The memory of how hard his chest was came back to me, causing desire to shoot through me.

“Drinks are on the house next time you come in,” I yelled out.

He turned back to me, and with a flicker of a smile, said, “Finally, she says thank you.”

Fuck, he read me well.  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving a dismissive hand at him.

He gave me a chin jerk.  Still no full smile, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man to give out too many of those.  “Catch you later,” he said, and then he was gone.

Jess yelled out from the table she was cleaning, “He’s hot.  You should so call that number.”

“I second that motion,” Damian chimed in.

I scowled at him.  “You fucking would.”

He grinned.  “Can I have his number if you’re not gonna use it?”

I shook my head at him.  “Something tells me Blade isn’t gay.  I think you’re shit out of luck there, dude.”

“I think you might be right, boss lady.  Why is it all the hot guys are straight?” he grumbled.

I snorted.  “That’s what she said.”

He laughed and we finished closing up.  As I worked, my thoughts drifted to the events of the night.  I was a little concerned about Mario coming back but, at the same time, I was fairly sure Blade had sorted that out for me.  Something told me he was a man you didn’t mess with, even if you were a debt collector who chopped fingers off for a living.  And that in itself kind of scared me, because I didn’t know whether owing Blade something would come back to bite me in the ass or not.

Chapter Four

Blade

I steered the car towards Scott’s house.  We’d organised to meet there this morning to discuss Storm business.  My mind should have been focused on that, but it wasn’t.  Instead, it was focused entirely on Layla.  I couldn’t get the dark-haired beauty out of my mind after last night.  She seemed to be a strong woman, and yet I’d sensed a vulnerability to her.  I was attracted to that.  I didn’t want to think about it, but that side of her reminded me so much of Ashley.  She hid it well, though.  Ashley hadn’t and she’d let me in easily.  I sensed Layla wouldn’t be the kind of woman to do that.

Fuck, why was I even thinking about this?  It wasn’t like I was interested in starting something.  I’d learnt women were best kept at arm’s length.  Since Ashley’s death, I hadn’t found a woman who came close to her.  All I’d found were women interested in themselves, and fucked if I’d spend my life with a woman like that.  I craved someone with a genuine kindness to them, someone who cared about other people as much as they cared about themself, and I’d rather end up alone than settle for less than that.

When I arrived at Scott’s, he was deep in conversation with Harlow on their front lawn.  Neither appeared happy, and this surprised me; from what I knew, they were tight.  I watched as Scott pulled her back as she turned to leave.  His grip on her wrist looked firm, and she struggled out of it but let him continue talking.  Whatever was going on with them appeared to be serious.

Eventually, he finished talking and pulled her to him to lay a kiss on her forehead, and then she headed to her car in the driveway.  I watched her leave as I walked to where he was standing.  He’d seen me, but his gaze was fixed on Harlow, and he didn’t turn to me until her car had left the street.

“Morning.”  He gave me a perfunctory look before turning and taking the stairs up to his house.

I followed silently.  Once we were inside, he offered me coffee and as he made it, I asked cautiously, “Everything good with you and Harlow?”  Being in Scott’s home wasn’t something I experienced often.  And being alone with him even less.  There was a distance between us that, as much as I’d tried to close it, had hardly changed since we’d met last year.  We were both too stubborn and moody for our own good. I inwardly grimaced: a trait we shared with our father.

He glanced at me before giving his attention back to the coffee.  His voice was off when he finally spoke.  “No, we’re going through some stuff at the moment.  It’s fucked.”  His hands stilled and his gaze hit mine.  What I saw there made me suck in a breath.  Whatever was going on, Scott was having a tough time at the moment because his face was a mask of torment.  His eyes were hard when he added, “Everything’s fucked.”