Then why did she scare me so much?

“Get out of my way.” I cringed at the slight tremor in my voice. Her slow smile indicated she heard it too. I’d shown weakness to a predator, unwittingly given her the tools to defeat me, and I fought the urge to run for the condo lobby and the safety of the security guard.

I chanced a glance toward the condo entrance, and Bria’s shrewd gaze followed mine.

“Stand aside,” I ordered, my voice more demanding than before.

She backed up a few steps, still crying, but her eyes burned with malevolence and something deeper and more sinister. I’d always considered her a sociopath or psychopath. Not sure which. I never studied psychology, but she was without conscience. I saw what she was lacking so clearly now.

I feared for my brother, his children, Axel, and myself.

“You’re a selfish bitch. You’ll regret not helping me.”

With carefully controlled movements, I put on my helmet and mounted my bike, ever aware of her watching me. I started and pulled away from the curb. In my side mirror, I saw her standing on the sidewalk watching me. I shuddered at the pure evil reflected on her face, no sign of the tears that’d been free-flowing only a minute ago.

Once I turned the corner, I roared down the street. I hurried home to Jock’s to shower and change clothes. By the time I pulled into Jock’s driveway, I’d somewhat dismissed Bria’s actions as the last attempts of a desperate woman. I also decided not to tell Jock about the encounter. He had enough to worry about right now. I’d deal with the woman on my own terms. She didn’t know who she was messing with. I was overconfident based on my exposure to a seedier side of life. Surely I’d be able to handle one narcissistic, spoiled woman, no matter how unhinged, without adding to my brother’s burdens.

Speaking of Jock, he was waiting for me when I pulled in, standing on the porch like he was my fucking father or something.

I shut down my Harley and walked up the steps. “Hi, bro,” I said casually.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“None of your fucking business. I don’t answer to you.”

“You’ve been with him all night, haven’t you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” My snotty attitude didn’t do anything to dampen his high-handedness, but I didn’t have enough fucks left to play nice. I was weary, disconcerted, and battling conflicting feelings of euphoria and dread.

“Geneva…” His tone changed from angry to pleading. “He’s not good for you.”

“Why?” I turned on him, tired of people telling me what was best for me. Perhaps I hadn’t made great choices in the past, but they were my choices to make and my mistakes to live with.

He blinked, surprised by my question.

“Why?” I repeated. “Because he slept with your wife? Is that the only reason you can come up with to hate him so much?”