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“It’s Ian’s brother.”
Everyone turns to look at me except for Streak, who just nods in agreement. I glance over at Blaze, and he’s studying me. “How do you know this?”
“Had Streak look into him. I never even realized that Ian had a twin brother but it makes sense with the pictures that have been left on my doorstep.”
He stares at me for a moment longer before turning to the other guys around the table. “We should put a guard on her.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m already taking care of it.”
Blaze turns his focus back to me. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’ve got a guy taking care of it.”
He slams his fist onto the table, and everyone falls quiet. “I fucking told you not to do anything.”
“Honestly, Prez, with Storm claimin’ her, it might be the best way to go,” Smith says, playing his part as sergeant at arms. “It’s been a long ass time since we’ve had to worry about protecting an old lady, and we don’t want to set a precedent with this.”
I look to the back of the table where our two older members, Red and Earl, sit. They are the only ones with old ladies anymore so it’s not something Blaze has had to worry about in a while.
“We can’t just go around killing people. That’s part of the reason we got in that mess six years ago.”
“I’m not killing him,” I say, knowing that will in no way pacify Blaze.
He turns to me and sighs, running a hand over his face. “And if he doesn’t get the message?”
“Then we’ll be having this conversation again.”
“Goddamn it, we have to be careful here. Rodriguez may be a friend but he’s a good cop, and he won’t protect you if shit goes down.”
I nod. “I know. But I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I have to do to protect my woman. This shit is not happening again.”
He studies me and I see the moment it clicks, the moment he realizes that I’m living a nightmare all over again, and he nods. “Understood, but we discuss it here before you do anything.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Alison
Dear Alison,
I’ve been seeing this guy for a little while, and I’m really into him but I can’t tell if he feels the same about me. He’s hot and cold, there one minute and gone the next like I mean nothing to him. I really want to be with him but I don’t want to waste my time or get my heart broken. What should I do?
Dazed and Confused
Did I write a letter to myself in my sleep or something? Jeez, it’s like someone plucked these exact thoughts from my head. Tossing the letter down on my desk, I sigh. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen Logan, and I never expected it to hit me this hard. Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and push those thoughts down. It won’t do me any good to wallow in this, and I just keep telling myself that there’s a reason for everything even if I’m not sure that I really believe that.
Sighing, I pull up a Word document and look over at the letter on my desk as I formulate a response in my head. Once I have a pretty good feel for where I’m going with this, I start typing.
Dear Dazed and Confused,
It’s been my experience that guys are usually pretty direct when it comes to what they want. If this guy truly wanted to be with you, you wouldn’t be writing me this letter. I know that kind of sucks, and I’m sorry that I don’t have a better answer for you but he’s showing you through his actions what he refuses to say out loud. And I think a part of you already knew that. You shouldn’t let this hurt you though. Just think, there’s probably some guy out there looking for you and he just doesn’t know it yet. There’s got to be more out there than being someone’s second or third priority. Hold on and have faith that when the time is right, he’ll find you and you won’t have to doubt how he feels because it will shine through in everything he does.
Sincerely,
Alison
I reread through my response several times before looking back over at the letter. It’s funny how I can give my readers such sound advice when my own love life is a complete mess. How can I expect people to listen to me when I can’t even take my own advice? Because if I did, it would stop hurting so damn bad that Logan just up and left my life without a word.
“Ali, there’s someone at the front desk for you,” Margie, our receptionist, says over the intercom, and I lean across the desk, pushing the button to respond.
