“What shit are you doin’?” he asks, giving me a hard stare.

I stiffen. “None of your business, Jack’s. I don’t ask what’s goin’ down between you and the Knights...same goes this end.”

“It’s my turf. Don’t go bringin’ motherfuckin’ trouble here, Spike.”

“Fuck, Jacks. I ain’t gonna bring no trouble.”

Jackson gives me a long, hard, glare, but then he sighs. “I don’t own Ciara. I can’t tell her what to do.”

“She’s under your protection, Jack’s. Tell her to back down, that this ain’t a clever thing she’s doin’.”

“She just wants your forgiveness. Maybe if you give it to her, she’ll back off.”

“No,” I grunt. “She won’t. It goes far deeper than forgiveness.”

“Why don’t you tell her to back down?”

“I have,” I growl. “She won’t have any of it. She won’t back off. She thinks she can fix me. She’s as stubborn as they come. That girl ain’t backin’ down anytime soon.”

“Ignore her, eventually she’ll go away.”

I huff, clenching my fists, “You really don’t know her, do you?”

Jack’s growls. “Fine, Spike, I’ll have a word with her. I’ll try and get her to back off.”

“Excuse me?”

I hear Ciara’s angry voice and freeze. Well fuck, she wasn’t supposed to hear. Slowly I turn, and I see her standing with two beers in her hands. She’s glaring at me, and her eyes are alight with rage. Fuck.

“How. Dare. You.”

“Ciara,” Jackson begins, but she cuts him off with a glare.

“I thought better of you, Jackson. Is that all I am to you people? Some pathetic case you need to sort out?”

“It ain’t like that...” he protests, but her eyes are back on mine.

Fuck those eyes.

“You,” she snarls, leaning down so close her face is only inches from mine. She’s panting with rage, and her words come out like fucking steel. “How dare you come in here and try to get Jackson to do your dirty work? You’re pathetic, Spike. If you have something to say to me, man up and say it. You can try as hard as you fucking like, I’m not going to run away crying like the little girl I once was, because honey,” she leans down, closer, “I got tough.”

Then I feel the cold beer hit my chest. I jerk and my eyes widen as she tips the fuckin’ beer down my front. The stare she’s giving me is that of pure determination and, fuck, is that hunger? Fuck her. Fuck. Her. I growl and reach up, gripping her wrists.

“Quit what you’re fuckin’ doin’ Ciara. Now.”

A slow smirk stretches across her face and she stands up straight, smiling down at us as though we’re just two customers she doesn’t know.

“You two have a lovely night, and do call if you need more beers.”

And just like that, she turns and walks off. I stare down at the beer that has now soaked my shirt and pants, and I curse loudly.

Well, fuck.

This ain’t goin’ to be easy.

The girl is gettin’ under my skin.

CHAPTER 4

CIARA - PAST

“Where are you going, Ciara?” my mother asks, following me down to the front door.

She hasn’t asked where I’m going, or whom I’m hanging out with for months. I know why she’s doing it now, because Cheyenne had a problem with her friend and is now sulking in her room, and I’m expected to stay and give her some company. Not going to happen. Cheyenne certainly wouldn’t do it for me. I meet my mother’s gaze, and shrug my shoulders. It’s so very teenager of me.

“I’m going out with a friend.”

“Cheyenne is upset, it would be nice if you supported her like most sisters would.”

I hate that. Just because she’s my sister, doesn’t mean I should have to drop everything for her. It takes much more to create a bond with someone, then just being blood related. Cheyenne has very rarely done anything for me. The whole ‘family bond’ thing doesn’t really cut it in this household. Sadly, it never has, but my mother still expects me to want to drop everything to help Cheyenne out when she’s in need. I don’t mind helping her either, when her problems aren’t petty and childish. I know for a fact this problem is just that.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Ciara, I am tired of all this attitude. You continually backchat me, and treat your sister like she’s no more than an acquaintance. She’s family. Family always comes first.”

I snort. “Yeah, well, funny she doesn’t have the same values when it comes to me.”

“Cheyenne would die for you, don’t be so selfish.”

I roll my eyes, and she crosses her arms.

“Sorry, Mom, but I’m busy tonight. Perhaps you and Cheyenne can have a girls night, because you do enjoy those...”

I’m being sarcastic and mean, but I don’t care.

She gives me the pained, hurt expression. “At least go and see her, she’s hurting.”

I sigh and growl loudly, before turning and storming up the stairs. I won’t get to walk out of this house until I see Cheyenne and listen to her bitch about a friend who did wrong by her, even though she was likely the one who started it. I get to her room, swing the door open, and find her lying in bed, staring out the window. It’s seriously like a movie. Next minute, it will be raining and a sad song will start playing. Can anyone say ‘drama queen?’