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Kristie must register the look on my face. “Well, shit.”
I open my mouth, with a wisp of an idea but the vibrating in my pocket draws my attention. Sliding my phone from my leather jacket I swipe to answer Mama’s call. “Mama? Everything OK?”
“That man? The empty one?” Mama says, her accent thick on the words. “He needs more than de blade. He needs to be destroyed from de inside. Frank will know what to do.” And with that she hangs up because no one can do foreboding better than the mother of my heart.
“Well?” Kristie asks, brows raised.
“No stabbing.”
“Well, that sucks.” Her shoulders slump slightly. “Alright, I’ll pack guns then.” With that she spins, her bare feet making a slight fart noise on the wooden floors before she stomps to another part of her house.
“Is she always like that?” Grammy asks, popping up from wherever she’s been. I’ve never had a soul who dips in and out quite so much.
“Always. From the very first time I met her.”
Grammy smiles softly. “I like that for you, Gabe.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d imagine a gift like yours could steal bits of you.” She looks down the hall where Kristie went. “But not with a sister like that.”
I huff out a laugh. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am.” She winks at me before her smile fades. “You know I’ll leave her after this, right?”
My chin dips. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.”
“I know you will.” She throws me a watery smile. “That’s why I chose you.”
Reaching out I grasp her small, crooked fingers. “Thank you, for choosing me.”
“Always. Now, go love on my grandbaby before we go do spooky shit.”
Chapter 15
Brenna
The vibrations of Gabe’s bike lull me into a trance as we ride through the streets, Halloween hanging in the air as the atmosphere in the French Quarter fizzes and pops with fear and excitement. There are children running along the streets, pointing out spooky decorations to their parents. The music in the air mingles with laughter and excited squeals and I wrap my arms around Gabe just a little tighter. As much as I love Halloween in NOLA, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious about what's going to happen tomorrow night.
He needs to fuck off.
“I know,” I murmur into the warm leather of Gabe’s jacket. “He will.”
Gabe slows his bike on a red light, pulling to a stop. His large, rough hand lands on my calf, gently squeezing out tension I never knew was there.
I bet that man has heavenly hands.
“Yes, yes he does,” I smirk. I wonder what it would take to get him to give me a foot massage?
A shiver runs through me at the thought of Gabe's hands on me. My mind flits to this morning and all the delicious things he did to me. My core heats, and she has no chance of cooling down now that the light has gone green. The irregularities in the road cause ripples of pleasure through me and I can feel the heat coiling in my lower belly.
I squirm on the leather seat, trying to angle my hips in a way that will ease the ache inside.
“You good, Bren?” Gabe asks over his shoulder, and I have to admit, I most certainly am not.
He must notice the look on my face because he turns off down a side street, one that doesn’t take us directly home. His hand lands on my calf again, kneading gently at the muscle, moving higher until his hand grips my ass and pulls me tighter to him, his leather belt riding low on his hips digging into me where I needed pressure.
My head drops back on a moan and I’m sure Gabe mutters “Fuck” under his breath.
