anyone on the best of days, after everything going on, I truly don’t trust anyone. Torres got pissed at me to the point I was afraid. All the memories of my father’s house filled me. Before he could react, Playboy and Fox were by my side. Needless to say, he’s pissed as fuck and hasn’t like me ever since that day.
“I’ve been better. Thankfully, Killer was smart enough to let me out of our room,” I joke while keeping my eyes on my man.
“What did you have to give up in order to make him give in to that one?” Stryker asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” I mutter disgruntled under my breath.
Still, Killer and Stryker both hear me as they bust up laughing. I may be sexually frustrated once more because Killer won’t touch me until we know for a fact we’re out of the woods. I’m not amused at all.
I watch as Torres leaves the clubhouse. I’m not sure where he’s going, but I take the first deep breath I’ve been able to since coming down here. That’s the one aspect I didn’t take into consideration when I wanted to come down to the common room. No one knows I feel the way I do about him either. Looking between Stryker and Killer, I try to figure out whether or not I should say anything.
“What’s wrong, Sparrow?” Killer questions me.
“I don’t like Torres. I get a weird vibe from him every time he’s around. He makes me feel as if I’m being watched when there aren’t many people around and I just don’t like him. He makes me feel as if I’m back at my father’s house in a way,” I respond to him.
“Is it just him or the rest of the Prospects too?” Stryker asks as I keep my gaze locked on Killer.
Killer’s face has gone a deadly shade of red. I know when his face gets this red, someone is going to get hurt or things are going to be broken. This means he’s angry as hell and trying not to explode while I’m in front of him. Or any of the other ol’ ladies. All of the men in the club try to contain their rage when something is happening. Killer is having a hard time doing that today. Especially when Torres walks back in carrying a package.
“Gwen, this is for you,” he states, ignoring the deadly looks he’s getting from both men sitting with me.
“Where the fuck did you find this?” Killer asks, jumping up from the couch after setting my feet off his lap and back on the cushions.
“It was at the gate,” Torres answers, still ignoring the hostility being directed at him.
“How did you know about it?” Stryker demands from him.
“I got a call from Robbie,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Killer orders him.
Instead of running off, Torres remains rooted to his spot for several seconds. I don’t even look at him as he continues to stand there. When Killer finally makes a move toward him, Torres finally heads behind the bar. It’s as if he knows what’s in the box and wants to see my reaction. I’m not going to hide from him.
“Stryker, take this out of here for me?” Killer asks him.
“No, babe. I want to open it here,” I tell him, reaching out to hold his arm.
“I don’t want you gettin’ upset, Sparrow,” Killer tells me, looking down at me with nothing but worry, concern, and love shining down at me.
“I need to do this. I’ll let you know after everything happens,” I plead with him, knowing this may be a step in the right direction; one that we need to go in.
Killer nods his head at me finally. Stryker slides the box closer to me as I turn on my side and watch on as my man slices through the tape to get it open for me. Stryker and Killer remain close to my side. Lifting the flaps of the box, I gasp out while covering my mouth.
Resting in the box are all sorts of photos, tapes, another stuffed animal, dead flowers, and resting on top is another note. Killer lifts the note out of the box and opens it open. His hands are shaking from the rage flowing through him right now as he scans the paper.
“We’re almost here. You won’t be safe for long,” he reads aloud.
Stryker and Killer grab the closest things to them, chairs from the