Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,1

on his jaw. That stupid bar in his stupid eyebrow.

Although, that didn’t really increase my chances all that much, no matter how much I might want it to.

Brennan clapped his hand on Blade’s arm and laughed brightly at something I couldn’t hear. God, he was annoyingly hot. Distractingly hot. And he’d been around a lot these days, first rebuilding Stella’s, and now Beau had hired him to gut and rebuild his own burned-out house. I hadn’t realized that had given him club event privileges, though. Who the hell invited him? Had to be Dante. He’d been falling all over himself thanking Brennan after Stella’s grand reopening.

Blade led Brennan off the porch and toward the firepit. Along the way, Blade found Logan and swung his arm around his shoulders, all the while talking Brennan’s ear off.

I couldn’t help but stare as Brennan stood by the firepit, with his back conveniently to me. He really had a great ass. Must be the construction. Lifting all those big pieces of lumber and stuff. And those tight jeans really clung to it. Devilishly hot. Unfairly hot—

“Fuck!” Pain lanced through me, sharp, and sudden. I drew my thumb to my mouth instinctively, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Fuck. I’d nicked myself plenty of times while whittling, but this one hurt. Felt deep.

I examined the wound—yep, definitely needed to be wrapped. My mood tanked even lower than it was before. I flipped my knife closed, shoved it in my pocket, and held my hand up to slow the blood, but tried to keep it out of view—I’d deal with this inside.

As I went up the stairs toward the back door, I felt Logan’s eyes on me. I swear that guy was like a hound dog with how quickly he noticed blood. He hurried over before I could make it through the door. “What happened?”

I glanced over my shoulder. It’d gotten Brennan’s attention, too, and he was watching our interaction with his eyebrows knitted together.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Just a scratch.” I had my thumb folded tightly into my fist, but blood was already starting to drip down my palm to my wrist.

“Doesn’t look like a scratch,” Logan muttered. “Come on, let’s clean it up.”

Logan dragged me through the back door, past the mingling club members, and into the big guest bathroom. He flipped immediately into nurse mode, grabbing my hand and unfolding it, peering at my thumb attentively before shoving it under the running sink. The force of the water stung, and I hissed through my teeth.

“What’d you do?” Logan asked. “This won’t need stitches, but it’s close.”

“Just whittling,” I grumbled. “Got distracted.”

“Not a great idea to get distracted when you’re messing with knives,” Logan said. “Blade’s done the same thing. Must run in the family.”

To my embarrassment, my heart jumped into my throat at the words. Hearing Logan say that—that I was a part of the Hell’s Ankhor family—made my heart feel a little less like it was deflating. God, how pathetic was I?

It’d just been a while since I’d really felt that way. Even if Logan didn’t mean it.

A gentle knock on the bathroom door, and then Brennan peeked inside. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

“Oh, excellent,” Logan said. “Would you mind running into the kitchen and grabbing the good first aid kit? The one in here sucks.”

Brennan nodded, listening intently as Logan gave him instructions on where to find the kit. He left, and Logan moved on from rinsing the cut to washing it with a little bit of soap. That made the stinging worse, and I swore and tried to pull my hand away instinctively.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Logan said. “I know you’ve had worse. Haven’t you crashed your bike a few times?”

“That’s different,” I grumbled.

Brennan returned with the big first aid kit in tow, and Blade behind him. “What happened?” Blade asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just a cut, we don’t need the goddamned calvary in here.”

“Well, good,” Blade said. “I was looking for Logan—but it can wait.”

“I got it,” I said a little testily. “It’s fine.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to wrap it tight enough with one hand, Joker.”

“I said it’s fine. This ain’t the first cut I’ve ever had.” I cringed a little, wishing I could swallow the words right after I’d said them, especially with Brennan standing there watching. I spent a lot of time trying to fix up my speech, but some of my old bad habits slipped in