Page 39 of Memphis Bound

"Venom's brother." Her smirk grows, turning vicious. "We've been waiting for months for the perfect opportunity to pay Memphis back for killing him. Hate to tell you, but you're it."

My heart drops at the mention of the surly jerk who stares at me like he hates me. All this time, I thought I did something to piss him off. But it's worse than that.

Memphis killed his brother. No. God, no.

"He's one of the Graceland Reapers," I whisper. Venom was never loyal, and Memphis doesn't even know. He thinks he's a friend, someone he can rely on.

"Nope, but his brother was. Memphis murdered him." Shelby cocks her head to the side, hitting me with a considering stare. "Odd that you're riding his dick so hard when everyone says he got your brother killed. But I guess trash attracts trash, right?"

My hands clench into fists, irritation coursing through me. I've never hit anyone before, but I really want to hit this chick. Before I can, I hear footsteps behind me.

I spin around, and my freaking heart plummets toward my feet. Venom's standing directly behind me, a small black gun pointed at me.

His denim eyes bore into mine, cold and unfeeling. "Get in the van," he orders, nodding toward the curb where a white van idles.

"Go to hell," I spit, panic clawing at my insides as the enormity of the situation crashes over me. If I get in that van, God only knows what he'll do to me.

"Didn't your mama ever teach you manners?" Venom growls, his grip tightening on the gun.

"Yeah. She also taught me not to get in creepy vans with weirdos," I retort.

"Cute. Now, get in the fucking van, or I'll put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours." He eyes me levelly. "I don't give a fuck if you're alive or not when I take you. Memphis won't know the difference either way."

I glance back at the bar, praying for some kind of miracle—but none comes. I'm on my own here. Either I get in the van, or he shoots me.

Memphis, I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry.

He's going to be mad as hell at me for this, but I've gotta do what I gotta do.

"He's going to tear you apart when he finds you," I warn Venom, my legs trembling as I make my way to the van, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders.

"Let him try," Venom snarls, shoving me inside the van.

Shelby climbs in behind me, and the door slams shut.

My heart trembles, anxiety coursing through me in a tidal wave. But I refuse to let them see my fear. I'm not just fighting for myself now; I'm fighting for Memphis.

For his sake, I refuse to lose.

Chapter Eleven

Memphis

Idrum my fingers against the handlebars, staring at Venom's place—a small, dirty white Craftsman a few miles from the bar. Frankly, the place looks like shit. It's overgrown and not well-maintained, making it clear Venom doesn't give a damn about it.

At this point, I'm not entirely sure what he does care about. He's worked for me since I opened the bar, but I don't think I know the big bastard at all.

I'm fucking positive he was tailing us last night, but why? I can't shake the nagging feeling that it's got something to do with Kylie. I've seen the way he looks at her sometimes. It's like he can't fucking stand the sight of her. That worries the hell out of me. I'm just not entirely sure what his goddamn problem is. Is he still pissed about Shelby, or is there something else going on? Something I've missed?

As I contemplate the question, his neighbor pulls into the driveway. I haul myself off my bike, crossing the pitted street to stand at the edge of the woman's driveway. I try like hell to be non-threatening. But let's face it. A motherfucker who looks like me in a neighborhood like this is always a threat.

"What do you want?" she asks, her hazel eyes narrow in suspicion as she clings to the door of her car, keeping it between the two of us.

"You seen Venom around?" I ask.

"Who?"

"Your neighbor." I jerk my head toward his place. "Big, surly bastard. Rides a bike like mine. Owns a white van."