Page 122 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)
He’s always been a bit protective, I tell myself. It’s an excuse, though. Kaiden in the women’s locker room on a Saturday is all sorts of wrong—Eli and I both know that.
But Kaiden is my brother’s best friend. He wouldn’t hurt us.
“You know, Riley, I was starting to think you wouldn’t get it.”
I tilt my head. “I’m not following.”
“Well, no. You were the followed.”
I latch onto Eli’s arm. “You?”
Kaiden shrugs. “Sometimes. Other times, it was my cousin. A bit of initiation for us.”
“Initiation for what?”
Eli grimaces. He keeps walking us back, inch by inch, until my shoulder bumps one of the rows of lockers. “Stop asking questions.”
I glance up at him. “Why?”
Kaiden grins. “This is the fun part, Eli. It’s where all the skeletons are brought out of the closet. But I don’t think this is the best place to have this discussion… don’t you think, Uncle?”
Someone grabs me from behind. Their arm winds around my neck, effectively cutting off the blood supply to my brain.
Learned that in defense class in gym...
I claw at my assailant’s forearm, only able to get out a squeak of alarm before they squeeze again.
“Don’t move, boy,” the person behind me orders Eli.
Eli looked ready to charge a second ago, but now he lowers his fists. The man—his voice is too deep to be anyone our age—chuckles. It vibrates his chest, and I feel it through my spine.
“Don’t hurt her,” Eli says.
“Don’t…” The man laughs louder. “I will admit, this is a fun surprise to have you here with her.”
He drags me backward, and I stumble before regaining my footing. He doesn’t slow down until we’re back in the hall, moving across it and into the dark gymnasium.
The man shoves me, and I fall to my hands and knees.
Foreboding winds through me, but I can’t tell what I’m hoping for—divine intervention or a quick death?
Eli lifts me, and we move away from the man and Kaiden.
“Ms. Appleton, I presume,” the man says. “We haven’t been properly introduced.”
Eli stares hard at him, but his expression gives away nothing.
He has tattoos crawling up his neck, peeking out from his crisp black collared shirt. The sleeves are rolled to just below his elbows, revealing full sleeves of tattoos. They stop just before his wrist bone—able to hide in plain sight, I suppose.
But it’s the gun strapped to his hip that my attention trips over.
“Grabbing a girl from behind isn’t the best way to properly introduce yourself,” I say, rubbing my throat.
Smart? Probably not.
But it sure does feel good.
“Do you know who I am?” He ignores my comment.