Hard to Love

16. Seth

"The car was parked out front," Derrick explains as I drag the metal chair across the concrete floor. The basement of Club Allure has seen more blood in the last two nights than I ever intended. We make do with what we have though.

"It was him. He's saying something different though," Connor informs me as I sit across from Mr. Hartley.

I let my head loll to the right as I take in the knots at his wrist. "He's been fighting it, looks like." The coarse rope has left dark pink marks around his wrist. There's a hint of blood on the loose threads too.

"Had to tie his chest to the chair too. Wrists and ankles weren't doing it," Connor tells me, his gaze steady on our unwelcome guest. The rope is wrapped twice across his chest. "He kept falling over."

"Is that what caused the gash on his head? Or did you two start the party without me?"

Roman's out front, keeping an eye out. The four of us, Derrick, Connor, this Luke fuck, and myself, are the only people within four miles of Linel Centers.

"Seth," Derrick says then scoots his chair forward and I glance at him but I have to do a double take. The way his forehead is creased, his lips pressed in a firm line and his eyes reflecting doubt... I don't like it. I don't like it at all.

Connor steps forward, ripping the rag out of Luke's mouth. Luke's body heaves forward as he sucks in air in between coughs.

I share a look with Derrick then one with Connor, both of them chilling me to the bone. Derrick nods his head at the man in the chair, whose gaze is focused on the floor. "Listen," he mouths to me. My muscles ache to let out the rage. It takes everything I have just to stay in my seat.

"You'll never get away with it," Luke says, threatening us the moment he's able to speak. His cadence is rough and from the split lip and gash in his head, I can guarantee he's hurting.

"The threats always come first," I tell Luke, speaking lowly, but I sit back in my chair, listening to the ranting man.

I crack my knuckles one by one, waiting.

Luke's head raises slowly and his brown eyes find mine, the hate firmly in place. "First the warehouse, then me? Fletcher will never let you get away with it."

"We didn't hit the warehouse."

"I didn't hurt Laura," Luke spits out immediately after my admission. He said her name. I can't sit here and listen to this man say her name and get away with it. The steel chair I'm sitting on is practically nothing, flying backward as I lunge forward. The skin on my knuckles stretches tight and nearly splits as I land a blow on Luke's jaw, screaming at him, "You don't get to say her name."

His chair falls backward, the steel clanging against the cement as I tower over him, heaving in air.

Connor's behind me in a split second, his hands on my biceps, pulling me back. He doesn't have to pull hard; I wasn't going to beat the shit out of him.

"He can't say her name," I explain to Connor, who looks up at me bewildered. It takes a hard look from me before he corrects himself.

Groaning on the ground, Luke spits up blood, and then looks me in the eyes as he says, "I would never go after a woman. Fletcher..." He has to pause and spit and when he does, I can already see the bruise forming from his lower jaw up to his high cheekbone. "Fletcher wouldn't go after the women. He'd never do that, and you fucking know it."

He's out of breath by the time he adds bastards to the end of his statement. Derrick eyes me all the while he hauls Luke and his chair back upright to a sitting position.