First Debt (Indebted #2)(50)

Turning down the corridor leading to Kes’s quarters, I found him with four men discussing some sort of strategy at the large table in the saloon.

The moment I entered, Kes’s golden eyes lit up. He bounced from his chair and came to offer his hand, tugging me closer to the bikers. “Nila. What a pleasant surprise.” His gaze went to my back, spinning me around a little to see. The lash marks were on display, having left the bandage off to help with healing. My dress was a scoop back, permitting my flesh to breathe.

“Ouch. I’d heard he hadn’t held back.”

“You heard?” I frowned. “He told you what happened?”

Kes swallowed, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Um, not quite. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’m just glad you’re well and on the mend.” Grabbing my elbow, he carted me closer to the table and beaming men. “You know Flaw.”

I nodded briefly at the black-haired man who moved like Vaughn, before inspecting the two other accomplices—one with dirty blond hair, the other with long brown hair in a ponytail down his back. “That’s Grade and Colour.”

What the hell sort of names are those?

It didn’t escape my attention that these were the same men who’d had their tongues on every part of me. But there was no awkwardness—no side glances or intimidation.

I snorted. “Ah, I get it now. I couldn’t work out your names before. Flaw, Cut…you name yourselves after diamond properties.”

Kes grinned. “Yep. Apart from the Hawk boys, of course. The Black Diamond brothers picked a name based on the gemstone and the properties in which they can be transformed.”

Grade—the man with dirty blond hair and a snub nose—grinned. “Happy to meet you, Nila.”

I didn’t bother saying he’d already met me, or at least his tongue had.

Colour, with his brown ponytail and broad grin, leaned the small distance between us and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Hello, Ms. Weaver. Lovely to see you again.”

The other day, Kes had said I was to be treated with kindness and respect, but a part of me hadn’t believed him. However, faced with men who had helped strip me of everything, it seemed as if they genuinely liked and wanted me in their company.

I couldn’t get my head around it.

Or they’re just perfect actors in the pantomime put on by Mr. Hawk.

Waving away the proprietary of my title, I shivered slightly. “Please, call me Nila.” I couldn’t stomach anyone else calling me by my surname and hated that Jethro continued to use it. I didn’t want to be reminded of the man who’d disappeared without a trace.

Kes pulled up an extra chair. “Sit and stay a while. We’re just discussing another diamond shipment due in tonight. It will be boring, but we’d be honoured if you’d share your opinions.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him. How much had Jethro told him of making me pay the First Debt? Did he know the battle that waged between his brother and me?

But most importantly, did he wonder, if he was Kite, why I hadn’t texted him in so long?

Damn Jethro for taking my phone.

Arsehole.

Flaw disappeared as the men fell back into conversation. He returned a few minutes later with a huge basket overflowing with items.

The bikers laughed, pushing back from the table to give Flaw space to present the basket to me. I strained forward, very aware that my raw back would be on display despite my long, unsecured hair hiding some of the evidence.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing up the pink concoction of crepe paper, chocolate bars, sweeties, magazines, and a brand new Kindle.

“For you,” Kes murmured, moving forward to rummage in the gift basket. “I wanted to come to your room yesterday and give it to you, but…well, Jethro has banned anyone from stepping into your quarters.”

Why am I not surprised?

Tentatively, I plucked the Kindle from the basket and turned it on. A stocked library full of romance greeted me.

“Wow,” I murmured. Then I looked at the name given to the device in the top right corner. Weaver Wailer. That would have to change straight away.

Kes shrugged, standing tall and running a hand through his messy hair. “Figured you must be going stir-crazy in this house. It will keep you occupied.”

And, it did.

For the next five days, I spent my mornings relaxing in bed with fresh pastries and fruit salad reading about alpha males and swooning heroines, while my afternoons were spent with Kes and the boys in his quarters.

My strange world settled into routine, and although I craved my phone and the ability to talk to Kite, I valued the reprieve—the preciousness of a secretive smile from Kes and the gentle touch of a fatherly biker.

They all doted on me.

They all smiled when I walked into the room and listened attentively to anything I had to say.

I felt valued.

I felt appreciated.

Which was the oddest thing to admit as I’d never felt cherished, even when delivering fashion-changing designs and bringing the Weaver name to even greater heights. No, that wasn’t true. I felt beyond loved and adored by my father and brother, but it’d been the everyday reporters, models, and shop owners that’d made my career a hardship.

Away from the toil of work, I found no drive to return. No urge to create.