Third Debt (Indebted #4)(44)

Nila turned a deeper pink. Her eyes hit the floor.

I laughed.

Serves her right for unsettling me.

Standing, I crossed the room and shook hands with the president of Pure Corruption. Standing taller than me with muscles bigger than Kestrel and black hair brushing his jaw, Killian screamed violence and influence. He wasn’t someone you messed with.

His huge grip clasped mine. “Nice to see you again, Hawk.”

Nila sized him up, interest glowing beneath her shyness.

It pissed me off, but I wasn’t worried. It was well-known that Arthur Killian of the Florida Pures didn’t go after women. He wasn’t gay, but for some reason he avoided the opposite sex.

Kill dropped my hand, crossing his arms with a creak of leather. “Now that the intros are out of the way…shall we begin?”





I COULDN’T TAKE my eyes off the new intruder.

I wanted to back away to become as invisible as possible.

The entire atmosphere of the room changed the moment he’d stepped inside. Jethro was sleek and cool—as flawless as ice and as deadly as poison, but Arthur Killian was like a tank. A weapon reeking of biker oil, sunshine, and fearlessness. My body completely belonged to Jethro, but I couldn’t deny Killian’s massive arms, untamed hair, and glowing emerald eyes didn’t flutter my stomach.

Coming toward me, his clothing rustled as he held out his hand. “No matter how much I fear for my hand’s safety, I can’t ignore such a stunning woman.” The air hummed with fierce intensity.

My gaze flickered to Jethro as I looped my fingers with his. Jethro stiffened but didn’t retaliate. My cheeks burned as Killian’s grip wrapped tightly around mine.

He was so warm.

An oven compared to Jethro. And his eyes. Oh, my God, I’d never seen such green, green eyes.

“It’s not your hand that should be worried.”

Only yours, Kite. I shot the silent message to Jethro.

Killian laughed. It sounded like a rumbling earthquake. He shook his head almost sadly, glancing over his shoulder at Jethro before looking back at me. “In that case, I don’t know if I should be jealous of Hawk’s hand or regretful for my own.” His deep voice was rhythmic—an accented drawl different to Jethro’s crisp English loquacity.

“You’re American?”

Kill took a step back, running a hand through his jaw-length dark hair. He looked wild, ferocious, but with a brokenness about him speaking of unpredictability.

What hurt him? Or who?

The vulnerability hiding beneath his rough exterior called to the nurturing side of me. I wanted to protect him from something. But what? There was nothing in the world that could hurt this mountain of a man.

Kill nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Born and bred in Florida.”

“What are you doing so far from home?”

His large boots clopped across the metal floor as he sat on the cow-print couch by the door. Bright spotlights shone behind him, casting him in a fuzzy silhouette. His eyes narrowed, tone turned dark. “Business, mainly. And new connections.”

The way he said it didn’t sound just about business.

I’d been around dangerous men enough to recognise one with a vendetta. “And Jethro is going to help you with that?”

“Nila…don’t pry.” Jethro appeared by my side, wrapping a chilly arm around my shoulders. His strength suffocated me, tightening like a boa constrictor instead of a simple embrace.

My eyes shot to his. In the presence of a man who wore his vitality and emotions in full view, Jethro seemed even more remote. A damn island surrounded by shark-infested waters with ice for waterfalls and snow for sand.

Stepping out of his hold, I crossed my arms. “Does Killian know what you’ve done to me? What your family has done to mine?” It was a ridiculous move and one I would never normally do. But Killian made me bold.

Jethro froze.

His eyes turned deadly. “Enough.” Pointing at the door, he growled, “Time for you to leave.”

Kill laughed. “She your old lady?”

Jethro turned his temper on the burly man commandeering the entire couch with his bulk. “We don’t have misses or old ladies in our MC. We’re more of a business enterprise rather than a brotherhood.”

Kill shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I run the Pures as a business, too. But we’re still family.”

I jumped in. “The Black Diamonds aren’t family. They’re employees.”

Kill cocked his head, pinning his vibrant emerald eyes on me. “And you…are you an employee?” His gaze drifted down my front, drinking me in.

My heart beat faster, subjected to his scrutiny. His interest was visceral, but it wasn’t sexual.

I stood taller, balling my hands. “No, I’m—” His Weaver Whore. The woman destined to die for ludicrous debts.

“She’s not an employee,” Jethro snapped. “She’s a pain in my ass and needs to leave.” He herded me toward the door. “You’ve pushed and pushed me today.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Wait till we get home. You’ll pay the price.”

I spun in his hold, causing his hand to go from my lower back to my belly. I gasped as his long fingers brushed my bare midriff below my jumper.

“That threat doesn’t scare me.”