I hoped things would improve at the second property, but they did not. As soon as we entered the house, Mr. Finley hurried up the stairs, gesturing for me to follow him. I didn’t realize that Flint and Mrs. Finley weren’t with us until he came to a stop in front of the master bedroom.
“I’d like to see what the master suite has to offer,” he said in a tone that unnerved me.
“I’m sure you’ll be pleased with it,” I said and stepped to the side so he could enter the room first.
As he surveyed the room, he kept moving around so that he ended up behind me. After the fourth time, I started to suspect he was doing it on purpose and no longer felt comfortable being alone with him.
“I’m just going to go check on your wife and see if she has any questions,” I said and started for the door, but he stepped in front of me to block my path.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said and moved toward me.
“That may be, but I’d like to see for myself.”
“You seem tense, Daphne,” he said silkily, closing the distance between us. “Do I make you nervous?”
As he moved closer, I could not believe what was happening. I knew I would be okay because Flint was there, and I was capable of defending myself to a degree, but I couldn’t believe I was going to have to—again. “Nervous is not the word I would use. Now, please step aside.”
“What word would you use?” he asked and extended his hand to reach for me.
“If that hand so much as brushes the fabric of her shirt, I’ll break every finger on it,” Flint said darkly.
Mr. Finley yanked his hand back dramatically and whirled around to face Flint, while I visibly sagged in relief.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Finley huffed.
“You heard me, Lewis.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do, Lewis Hall. That’s your real name. And the woman downstairs is Leah Salt, who isn’t your wife, because you don’t have one.”
“You’re mistaken,” Mr. Finley—or Mr. Hall, I guess—insisted. “Now, move out of the way. We’re leaving.”
“I’m sorry. You can’t leave yet. Your ride isn’t here.”
“My what? What are you talking about?”
Flint grinned. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Flint Black, a member of the Blackwings MC and the son of Phoenix Black, Blackwings MC President. He’s sending a car for you because he’d like to speak with you.” Flint leaned forward and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “You fucked up, buddy.”
I almost jumped out of my skin when the doorbell rang. “Flint,” a male voice I didn’t immediately recognize called.
“Up here,” he said.
Carbon materialized moments later and looked scary as hell. It wasn’t his outward appearance, per se, but the look on his face and the mood he was projecting was terrifying.
He glanced at me, and his face softened. “Are you okay?”
“I-I, y-yes, I think so,” I stammered.
His expression hardened, and he turned his ice-cold gaze back to Mr. Not Finley. “You’ve disrespected one of our family members and upset her in the process. That was not a wise choice. As such, our president wants to speak with you. Are you going to come with me on your own or am I going to make you?”
Mr. Not Finley turned to look at me. “Who the fuck are you?”
Carbon thumped him on the forehead. “You’re not allowed to speak to her. And we already told you. She’s a Blackwing. Now, let’s go. Phoenix is waiting.”
“What about the woman?” I asked quietly.
“Oh,” Flint said, as if he suddenly remembered. “She was ‘accidentally’ locked in the basement. She’s waiting for me to come back with the key.”