do. There was never any real danger headed our way, but just the idea of living life on the edge was enough to have us laughing and invigorated.
Just as I was about to settle, the sound of someone behind me made me pause. Fuck. I thought I had at least an hour before one of them found me. I bet it was Bonham. I bet they put a tracker on me somehow. I wouldn’t put it past the twisted, controlling fuckers.
I sighed, not turning around. “Seriously? Can I not go one afternoon without one of you assholes following me?” I said while rolling my neck down. I looked down and noticed that my sheer, navy tights were ripped at the knee.
“Hmm. I see why they like you,” an unfamiliar voice responded.
I spun around and froze when I came face-to-face with a strange man. He was wearing a hoodie, pulled tight over his head to shadow his features. He also had on a leather jacket and his arms hung loosely at his sides. I could see tattoos lining his knuckles that spelled “F-I-G-H-T-M-E” on them.
I swallowed. His accent was distinguishable, but I couldn’t place it.
“Who are you?” I asked as he took a few steps closer to me.
He was taller than me, but not nearly as tall as Rogue. I probably should have started running, but fear kept me rooted to the spot. At least here, I could keep him within eyesight.
“Name’s Dean O’Banion. I’m a friend of the Heirs,” he said in his clipped accent while appraising me.
I immediately knew that was a lie. The Heirs didn’t have friends. They had each other, they had Heir Chasers, and they had connections. That was it. So who the fuck was this dude? The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I stared at him, trying to spot any additional identifying markers.
I was struggling between pretending not to know the guys and hiding behind their influence. “They’ve never mentioned you.” Apparently, I chose wrong, because I saw a hint of a smile peeking from beneath his hood. Shit. I knew it my gut that I should have asked who he was talking about instead, but it was too late now. Time to backpedal.
“Funny. They’ve made a big show of you bein’ dirt beneath their feet,” O’Banion said, flashing me a smile that turned my blood cold. “Wouldn’t be the first time the Heirs got caught in a lie. So who are you to them, Scarlett Livingston?”
I frowned at the feeling that I’d just royally fucked up, and the fact that he knew my name sent warning bells off in my head.
"Well, we don't really talk much. Mostly I use one of them just as a fuck buddy," I said with a shrug, trying to backpedal. But based on the pleased look on his face, he knew I was full of shit. I started rambling, grasping at straws while he stepped closer. "Rogue’s actually supposed to meet me here any minute." I said, looking around. The train tracks were completely deserted. I was out of sight, and wasn't sure that anyone would hear me if I screamed. I had to make this guy believe that I wouldn't be alone for long.
"Here? Out in the open?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Kinky. I like it."
"We're not much for having an audience," I said. I tried to take a step back, but he grabbed my arm.
"I'm not much for bein’ told no," he said with a smile that made a shiver travel up my spine. I nearly choked at the implications of his words. I started thinking about all those fighting lessons Bonham gave me. I could yank out of his grip, maybe kick him in the balls. If I just ran fast enough, maybe... "But luckily for you, my purpose here is short-lived. I just needed to see you."
A gust of wind blew his hood open for a moment, giving me a glimpse of his pale face and bright blue eyes. His head was shaved, and I got a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck that read "Brothers," before he readjusted the fabric to cover himself up once more.
"Why do you need to see me?" I asked, hating how my voice sounded weak and timid.
He squeezed my arm harder, making me wince. "I needed to see what was so special about you that got those boys all out of sorts. They put on